New Mexico Poets Blog

Rebecca Guile Hudson
Rebecca Guile Hudson
My name is Gair. I'm a musician, artist and writer who lives in the old village of La Joya, New Mexico. Since 2006 - at the invitation of Steppin' Out New Mexico magazine and Web Witchcraft Publishing - it has been my privilege to be the moderator of this blog.

Your poetic or other musings are welcome here; but it has been our policy to deemphasize the politics and really raunchy stuff since we have kids visiting and because the net has plenty of all that elsewhere.

In this journal and at our readings, we have featured some of our favorite poets.

Sal Treppiedi
Sal Treppiedi
To post here, just click "Leave a Comment". Have questions or suggestions? Feel free to Email or call me.

  • To access our blog archive for July 2006 - February 2007, click here.


  • To access our blog archive for February 2007 - March 2008, click here.


  • And finally, to access our blog archive for March 2008 - July 2010, click here.
Thanks for visiting "New Mexico Poets Blog". Please come back soon!


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1-15 of 36 Comments
Neddy Roan – Cleveland Ohio
November 09, 2016 - 15:42
Subject: In My Cock and Bully Days by Daniel Thompson

In my cock and bully days
On the beauty/beast express
When I'd run my reckless eye
And any old phrase would do
When thick as thumbs in the green
Thief wind, I made the round ground's
Spinning skin my house of joy
And the bouquets of poses
I would toss to the ladies
Where my flowers of black sunlight
Cracked through the rock

In the midnight of rivers
Where I washed out my virtue
Happy as a hobo
With his dreams in a bottle
No dog-haired saint in the fox-
Fire of God nor spellbound bee
In the dandelion's roar
Lived in the lovelight as I
And the heart, still shining, sings

Gair Linhart – La Joya, NM
May 20, 2016 - 12:50
Subject: Room To Run

Room To Run

Build him a snug doghouse
and he値l sleep out in the driveway
in the driving sleet

Bring her filtered water and she値l prefer to
drink from the drain ditch

The same dog who would
gladly die for you
still might try a mad dash for freedom
now and again

When you must bury a dog
dig the hole deep

But more importantly
dig it extra wide
flat and roomy
at its bottom

This way, the dog

(and your heart)

will have

room to run

(C) Gair Linhart

August 28, 2015 - 04:55
Subject: Thanks

Thanks for this full of wisdom website !

Harry L. Bows – Valencia County, NM
January 21, 2015 - 15:09
Subject: Why?

There once was a girl, asked why?
Can't I look in my ear with my eye?
If I put my mind to it, I KNOW I can do it
You never can tell, till you try!

Debbi Miller Gutierrez – Los Chavez, New Mexico
July 31, 2012 - 22:40
Subject: Front Porch Autumn Afternoon

A baby in an automatic swing
sits quietly bewildered and a bit
annoyed at being left alone to ping
and tick and whir and gurgle burble spit.
His mother curls up in a chair and dreams
herself a princess, too bereft to weep,
imprisoned in a tower where moonlight streams
in silver, and the bats hang fast asleep.
Hark now--a ping, the ring of hooves on stone,
a tick, the click of boot heels on the star,
a whir, a flurry--all the bats have flown,
the gurgle burble of a brook somewhere,
then creak! then shriek! the baby's had his fill
and Life goes on though swing and dreams stand still.

Winner of the Traditional Award in 1986 from the Kentucky State Poetry Society, published in their anthology, Pegasus, the same year. Copyright Debbi Miller Gutierrez.

Gair Linhart – La Joya, NM
February 11, 2012 - 10:35
Subject: WRONG

Nuke a beef weiner

That's supposed to be wrong

Be fatter, not leaner

It is wrong! it is wrong!

Light up a fag

Now that's really wrong

Say that church is a drag

Unforgivably wrong!

You voted for that one?

You must hate all mankind

You voted for this one?

You are out of your mind!

Schools, schools, schools

Rules, rules, rules

Fools, fools, fools

Tools, tools, tools

Just one thing's sure in life

As we stagger along

All we do or don't do

Someone will find WRONG

(c) 2012 Gair

Barbara DuBoia – Luis Lopez
January 30, 2012 - 11:34
Subject: The Rio Abajo Poets meet the third Tuesday, 7:30 pm, at the Old Town Bistro, Socorro

Poets are all welcome. We read our latest or read poems we have read lately.

Barbara DuBoia – Luis Lopez
January 30, 2012 - 11:28
Subject: Shadows

A New Mexico sky full of fluffy clouds
can make lovely shadows
pink in the east on East Mesa
because of its pink rocks,
Blue shadows on the west mountains
make some mountains seem farther away.
Pocket shadows on the west mountains
suggest mountain lakes.
Don't look away; the wind will move the clouds
making new shadows.

Moonlight arrives with its own shadows,
deep purple.

gair – The Rattlesnake Ranch
July 17, 2011 - 17:57
Subject: MUSTARD SEED

MUSTARD SEED

I don稚 know if there痴 a god above

But I知 a Christian

Don稚 know how much of the bible is true

But I知 a Christian

I don稚 believe in salvation via

Grace or faith or good works, even

But I知 a Christian

I知 not too sure about everything that

Jesus actually said or did

But I知 a Christian

Buddha and the great Kung

Centuries B.C.

Were Christians too, in my book

I知 skeptical about there being

Lives before or after this one

But I am a Christian

As far as going to church

I知 just an old backslider

Point a skyャ- pilot at me

And I vaporize quick

But I am a Christian

Though Christ痴 name has been used too often

To murder and enslave

Still, I choose to be a Christian

This title I claim

And so might all

Who worship:

Forgiveness

Peace

Love

Justice

and

The eternal chance to start anew -

Or anybody else

Who has been touched

By his great, great heart

ゥ 2010 Gair

May 02, 2011 - 21:30
Subject:

I splash and play, a fountain of light,
sparkling and kissing the vibrant,
vivacious waves of the eternal ocean
that is my truth, my soul

Meanwhile, I知 also being tossed and turned
upon the turbulence of the river of
life, through raging, roaring rapids
and placid musical streams,
seeking tributes and trophies,
finding dead ends and tributaries,
tribulations and trials,

feeling fearful, helpless, trapped & lost,
imprisoned in the life boat that is my body,
hanging on for dear (well, YOU know what!)

Then comes a time,
such a long, endless time,
the river rejoins that forever ocean
and pours me forth to once again
become whole, to once again
remember my truth

I Am Soul

I surge to quench and erase the thirsty,
yearning aridity of the sandy beach
of ever-shifting time
and wipe away its edges, wipe away its tears

Impermament no more

I Am Soul

Barbara DuBois – Socorro
March 19, 2011 - 14:20
Subject: The Bearable Lightness of Baking

Charles the chef bought a new waffle iron
like the ones in motels
I thought he was going to start a bed-and-breakfast
but he says he just wants waffles.
Then he bought two waffle grids
to fit his panini grill.
Two new cookbooks arrived
full of delicious pancake and waffle recipes
with wild, hard-to-find ingredients
like rye flour, molasses,
semolina flour, and rosemary
All recipes call for both baking powder and baking soda
and egg whites beaten separately.
We have to catch the waffles on their way to the ceiling.

Barbara DuBois – Socorro
January 11, 2011 - 21:02
Subject: January

We have to strip the halls we decked
The boughs of holly are no more
except to decorate the landfill.
Where did all the fa-la-las go?
The tree is down
No more needles on the floor
Tinsel only here and there
We can see out the windows
no longer frosted.
No more candy and cookies
We'll revert to our former diet and weight.
The white snow has turned gray.
The candles glow no more
Back to incandescent lamps
which don't drip on the tablecloth.
Is January bleak ............or clean?

DuBois 2011

Barbara DuBois – Socorro
January 05, 2011 - 20:06
Subject: Busy Ears

Do people fear being alone?
Is that why they carry a phone?
They stand in the airport so near
but they have a phone at the ear.
I think they are talking to me
but they talk to one they don't see.

"I'm here at the airport with nothing to do
so I thought I would phone and bother you.
I just called to ask you what's new with you?"
"Oh not much here, but what's new with you?"

It's likely that a businessman
would use a phone to make a plan.
A delayed traveler (unlikely thing)
might give a meeter a quick ring.

I see folks in the grocery line
phoning just to kill the time
maybe they forgot their grocery list
but I think they can't resist
phoning just because they can.
Usually a woman, not a man.

I've made fun of all these phoners
but I feel like such a loner
that I've finally bought a phone
of my own.

DuBois 2010

Hakim Be – Albuquerque
December 11, 2010 - 17:31
Subject: Desert Son - by hakim bellamy

You had no idea where you were going, son
And neither did I
A seed with no field to call your own
Not football nor plantation
No mansion nor manger
Not field owner nor worker...yet

Just 40oz. and a beast of person
Mule born just broad enough to bear the harvest of a field痴 worth of
Faith fertilized mustard seeds

Cause the funny thing about dreams
Is that they become heavier when you don稚 feed them
Shine brighter when you eclipse them
I had no idea son

You壇 subside your design to be a lion
And reign as the king of this garden
Bearing pieces of life
That swell with water
And contempt for arid landscapes that have forgotten how to swallow
More mother than monster
Fish for prey in tourniquet waterways

No idea you壇 be desert Fly fisherman
Working on your multitude of miracles
Turning verbs into nouns
Prey into prayers
And catching ours for water on day 66 of drought
But you
Beautiful baby boy all belly
Growing out of beast
You pass on our humble offerings
Spit coins out of your wishing well back into our purses and pockets

Son,
My face has been an nightly altar of tears
That we aught to have potted, then farmed with
But saved it to baptize your heart in
And you saved us
As you gave us reason to gather
Once hunter
You threw our invocations
Back like El Nino for Los Ninos
Your flow
Dia de la crecida

I was blessed the day I woke up dry
Moments before being drowned in you
I was born again

Me
Smacked by doctor on bare ass
Extends his hand and says
鼎ongratulations, you are a brand new baby, Boy.
You
More Albuquerque
And less everywhere else

You had no idea where you were coming, Sun
And neither did I
No more periods of rising and setting
Just incubation in ovens of cracked earth
That need every last bloody rock to squeeze
To squeeze uprisings out of
Infertile Bosque beds beg us to bring you back to the crib
You were born to bring rain to those most in need of tears

That nah.... Yo
I got something in my eye of the storm
Too gangsta to cry
Born of that smoke cloud rock cracked thunder
clap, clap, clap, clapped
Sky that blanketed his face in alibi
Cholic of babies that never die nor survive
Face PCP wet pretending it痴 diaper dry

Blanketed his unswaddled childhood in perspiration that痴 dong time
Pumping prison muscles for riots
And flash floods that don稚 know their own strength
My baby water broken all over desserts that were fixed
Now ready for mistakes and faults
Cause that痴 how we grow

And you grow
Like armored vegetation with low expectations
Like every plant here that they said would not
Like water is for the privileged
Like those architects of agriculture in arid arroyos

And daddy spits into the wind every day
To remind him of your water breaking
To remind me,
That I am what you池e making
That there is a magic in matter being created
And I ain稚 just talkin about the miracle of you one day being as big as me
I知 talking about the implausibility of both our hearts getting bigger and bigger with each heartbeat

From the moment we made each other
Product of a one night stand with the mesa
Out of wedlock but
1st born of a mirage

I have no idea where we値l go
Nowhere that will miss us like the last strike
No one that knows us
Like the Sandias
Who致e seen us valley and at our peak
And can honestly say they致e read our face everyday

No other place that won稚 let you be
Like Castas
Just be
You
Only half beautiful, before white
When their original tri-cultures where Espanoles, Indios y Negras

Where will you grow when
No other place will pardon your pardos
Someplace we could never leave like a boarding school
A land that won稚 let us settle like the Pueblo Revolt
Where the desert floor is spilled with hour glass granules
To give us all the time we need

Where sandscapes rearrange at the threat of wind
And we lift faces with a word
You sunflower
Who has the audacity to bow to sunrises
And stand up to sunsets
Stubborn enough to bloom with fierce independence

It痴 not the most fertile plot of land
But it grew you and made me
Soiled our hearts with a passion for mud pie childhoods
My seconds and your firsts

No other place thirst so ravenous for you to bring the rain
When all you know how to do is shine
And I have no idea why I came here to crawl out of my own shadow
And into your dawn
Why a rose would be so stubborn as to grow into these cement shoes of entrapment
And have the nerve to call it a flower bed
Instead of a cemetery garden

But in the absence of full blown ideas
And full grown family trees that are just dreams of seeds

There痴 your moonlit reflection
And in it you mirror most like me
Cause when I look directly into you I cannot see
But finally have, sort of an idea...

For our raison d弾tre, reason we be
What New Mexico is all about

It is the uncrossed desert and the unclimbed ridge
It is the star that is not reached
And the harvest that is sleeping in the unploughed ground

No place like you
Potential never packaged so perfectly
Seeds galore
Our deck stacked in favor of the miracle
No clouds
Just the potential of rain matched with our abundant sun
Means we see more rainbows in a week than they do in 12 months
Who needs soil
When you can impregnate imagination
And your Atom is already made out of sand

I have no idea why we壇 even try to grow anywhere else
Cause the strongest leaves fall from trees that didn稚 just have to fight growing up
But those who began as seeds having to fight their way into the damned ground

No brighter idea
No other place your shade of brown
In a desert that can稚 get enough of you, Sun
No place to go...

But here,
You are in Albuquerque now.

Sal Treppiedi – Albuquerque
November 25, 2010 - 19:28
Subject: Handball Court #1 - The Car Barns

Sandblast hands
Rough to the touch

Hardcore competition
Razor sharp vocabulary

Shirts knotted to the fence
Jack straw canisters of Spaulding

Pink as flesh
Rubber bloodshot palms

Crowds mill
Girlfriend anxiety

Catholic school kids
Run to catch a glimpse

Ridgewood celebrities
Sidewalk sensations

Day becomes night
Fire up the barbecue

Break out the beer
Collect

Wait for the next
Unemployment check

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