The Road from Santa Fe to Cimarron | A Poem

by L.M. Browning, from a working collection

 

Red dust,

sanguine from Sangre

bleeding into the snowy roads

that lead to the hidden mountain

where the lone buffalo waits.

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8,947 miles later, I know now why you refuse the say the names of those dead-to-you-yet-still-breathing—afraid as you are of the monsters are still under the bed—yet in the silence, you give them immortality…

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