36 Hours in New Mexico

saddle up a fine cream-colored mule

an unimaginable mystery

eager to be abroad in its

startling white church, its clustered town and its acacia trees

clumps of wild pumpkin

a great colony of gray-green lizards

petrified rock, “yellow as ocher”

ancient juniper trees

jutting upward 700 feet from the sandy plain


Rhian said...

i like the dance of colors in this. and it brings back so vividly memories of new mexico for me.

gautami tripathy said...

All those colours..I can kind of visualise

numbing nirvana

Frank Parker said...

Thank you, Gautami and Rhian!

Anonymous said...

Sparse open poem, perfectly reflecting the sense of place it conjures, cool,

Frank Parker said...

Hey, thank you, gingatao! Like good music, in my opinion, it's as much the silences as the notes that create good phrasing.


Danika / OpenChannel said...

Frankie!! Long time no "see"

Your work is always like that, great with space and silence and stillness.

You never overcrowd your poems.

How ya been?

I miss New Mexico... I haven't been back since I moved to Canada.

Frank Parker said...

Hi Danika,
I've been quite good. Working part-time, going to poetry readings too. And enjoying those spaces between!