I walk through this desert with Coyote and Raven, discussing who really created the Milky Way.

I stand under these big open mouthed skies of New Mexico and let the stars flow down my throat and into my veins.

I hike through the Bisti badlands, the towering playground of Tent Rocks, and hear the thrumming of the ancient earth.

At night I take my flashlight out into the brush, following the sparkling shine of eyes in the darkness.

By morning the sun lights the gold chamisa and lavender sage carpet of my  dreams.

This is my home, though I haven't a house. 

This is my succor,  though water is scarce. 

I came from the east and can't imagine life without the west.

This is the place where I live.