The Road from Santa Fe to Cimarron | A Poem
by L.M. Browning, from a working collection
sanguine from Sangre
bleeding into the snowy roads
that lead to the hidden mountain
where the lone buffalo waits.
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I hear the voice of god in the hum of the neon sign at the rest stop, where the caravan of displaced desperadoes and expats post-up for the bottomless cup of coffee….
Be gentle long night, I don’t belong here. Thrown to the wolves, I shifted nocturnal.
In a land beyond the pervading dark,
in a state beyond the fever-pitch…