Settler Fantasies and Fences Part 3: Hunting

In a juniper and pinon forest in the South of New Mexico, I killed my first elk. There are no ways to describe it, except through poetry.  This is the poem I wrote afterwards.  Only a forest as sparse as this could  be both broad and quiet enough to hear.  Everything quiet except  her eyesContinue reading “Settler Fantasies and Fences Part 3: Hunting”