eight years back in a room

the jingle-jangle of 
bells and chains strung
inside harvey the truck/camper
as we sway in the high winds while heading north
on the 25


in some ways not ideal tyler
(in regards to land/house search, but really, applies to so many things)
but it is still good

kit fox
erika says
of a special animal who visits
along the quiet gurgle
of the river/creek
the sangres were always east in santa fe i say
it’s strange to be on the other side now
and the sun sets behind them
rags whipping in the wind
on a line strung across the 
river house porch

how the smokey new mexico chile scent of soup loaded with cilantro
and avocado cubes still fills the river house
as i curl under the layers of covers
the same bottles of oils
with typewritten labels
including oak moss
in their same little wooden cabinet
that once sat bedside
8 years back in a room in a house
on holland street
where dwelled the best
porch-prince ever
coming alive might be a way
to describe what it feels like
to walk under a sky mad with stars


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