on highways, rails, rivers and trails
we cut open the prairie wild
to poison our mother and bleed her dry
blind to the consequence

these fine white lines confine me
on aimless, nameless streets

where fences hang from twisted crosses
crucifying pages torn
from our fathers' histories
we'd rather soon forget

these fine white lines confine me
on shameless, blameless streets

when cold winds come blowing backward
and freeze the spaces in between
will our children know have this earth
if we do not know mercy?

these fine white lines confine me
on aimless, nameless, shameless, blameless streets

I have this dream
In my mind,
That I will leave
This town with the one.

We will head west,
We will stop everywhere
And anywhere.
Take our time.

Live.

We will spend hours
In endless flower beds
In mossy forests
In crystal clear waters

We will drive and
Listen to every type
Of song,
New and known.

Yes, there will be arguments.
Nothing is perfection,
But I believe we will come close.

As the wind rushes
through our hair
We will be free,
And full of forgiveness.

We will visit new towns,
Make legendary memories.
Watch the lights of skyscrapers
As one by one, they go out.

Visit vintage diners
On the side of the road,
Learn everything
about each other.

For wanderlust has filled me,
And I dream
That we will be nomads
One day.

i toy with the idea of
buying a bus ticket to
somewhere on the west coast
to a place i would be new to
to a place where i could be
as invisible as i like
i don’t know what
is stopping me from
being a burlesque dancer in
Portland but I keep spending
my money on cigarettes and
**** and all i do is
smoke and cry and love
and i need to get out
of this house that has become
such a miserable place to be
such a miserable place to live
but when it comes down to
it i’m more likely to
**** myself than flee

I miss you,
West Texas,
You more than most.
I miss people
And things
But I’ve never missed more,
Than I’ve missed you.
One day, I’ll return to you,
And we’ll be together until I die,
My dear West Texas.
Some say your deserts are unbearably hot,
And I say,
It’s easier to make shade
Than a fire.
Picturesque cacti,
Blooming in the spring,
Sunsets that put oil paintings to shame,
And wild mustangs escaping man’s unyielding possession,
Just like me.
I can see them running along the dusty banks
Of a wide river in canyon carved by the Great Artist Himself,
West Texas,
I want to drive a rusty old truck through hot afternoons till frigid nights,
Miles and miles of sweet loneliness,
Until it’s just you and I,
And I can watch your brilliant display of stars move
Across the endless horizon.
Desert owls,
A serpent’s rattling warning,
Creatures that crave solitude,
As I do,
Emerge in the night,
Like the neon lights of lonely bars in the middle of nowhere,
Sweet prickly pear in perfect harmony with Jose Cuervo in my glass,
A tribute to my lonely West Texas,
Singing me a tune of cicada chirps and desert winds,
And the jingle of spurs on concrete floors,
As the men,
As old and covered in sand as the bar itself,
Make their way in from isolated jobs miles away,
To listen to Tejano,
And sip on that cactus nectar,
Distilled by the Great Bartender
For a night like this,
In my West Texas,
Perfectly lonely,
Perfectly perfect.
I just want it to be me and you
And your hot red sand,
I want to see those yellow blossoms bursting from the deceptively spiny hands of desert life,
I want to hang a dusty, wide brimmed hat above dusty leather boots when I come home,
I want the sky to explode with color,
As a reward for enduring a long day of the heat,
And when the rare jewels from heaven fall, and nourish your cracked ground,
And peace is sworn between all animals,
Predators and prey,
For that moment,
So that all may celebrate the loving dew sent by our Great Caretaker,
I want to dance on your planes,
Twirl in the rain,
And let the drops fall between my lips like the crevices of your canyons,
Brought to life when you are,
Slumber when you do,
Live each day as you live,
My sweet West Texas.

Above all
I thank the stars
For the gift of wayfinding.

Above it all
I gaze higher still
Or to the sunlit valleys below
To find my way.

The gift of terrifying awe as Orion's belt peers through the trees, bringing South.
The gift of sure confidence as I point the Dippers out to others, bringing North.
The gift of guesswork as we discover behind which peak the sun will rise, bringing East.
The gift of inevitable hush that descends along with her, bringing West.

The gift of heavy elements
Composing all
And my body
And these eyes
That were also made for
Reading maps,
Reading signs,
Reading animal sigils.

Above all
I thank the stars
For teaching me
To be less blind
And to find My Self
In the world.