Friday, May 15, 2020

everyone left us to an empty road


pre-virus tucumcari to conchas new mexico

they call it the canadian river that runs
near the two-lane
from a state park lake/reservoir confluence in the north

it makes for a quiet sunday morning
sunny dry december
hills in pinyon pine

other than a few lost seagulls
our voices carry
like an intruder

serendipitously
we've been sent
to the outer edges of a singing bowl

of a rock face
that leaves
with a smile

--- e b bortz

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