I used to live in the greasewood hills of southern New Mexico on the edge of an arroyo in the Mesilla Valley. On the eastern horizon are the Organ Mountains; on the west are the Robledo Mountains and the table-top of the West Mesa. The valley is bisected by the Rio Grande River. It is an area of great beauty, diverse cultures and interesting history.
Now I live in the South of Texas, brush country, cowboy country, live oaks, between the megalopolis of San Antonio and the sandy beaches of the littoral islands of the Gulf of Mexico. This is a desert of a different order, still rich in history and offering new opportunities for poetry, such as Trees like Paintbrushes below. I will keep my moniker to avoid having to make another site and still keep New Mexico and the Organ Mountains securely tucked in my heart.
Also I will start including new unpublished poems here, thus banning myself from ever being published elsewhere because of the almost universal “only unpublished poems will be considered” rule upon submitting.
A New Mexican Poet 