A big gray house in the sycamores —
late night thoughts and who they’re for.
Children of mine, children of theirs,
the crops I lost — my Buffalo thoughts …
A river of cars through broken fields.
Cold, tired, and climbing hills.
Memories are the stay behinds
connecting life form and time.
Late night Buffalo thoughts …
Twisted rim in the sand,
fix that tire again.
In the sand,
fix that tire again.
A jumbled pile called a town,
Las Cruces is falling down.
Down to the old sea bed,
loud metal bird is bleeding red.
Children of mine, children of theirs,
the crops I lost — my Buffalo thoughts …
Twisted rim in the sand,
fix that tire again.
In the sand,
fix that tire again.
I spent another hour wasting time.
Sunrise, sunrise, sunrise …