velar nasal

swim

swim

plant

plant

chop

chop

coal burning this softwood into a bowl

coal burning this softwood into a bowl

Morning. With the calls of the logger head shrike from the pinyons and cedars, the rooster in the distance, and the buttery sun hardly petting through my dusty windows. I remember to shake my muckboots out before putting them on, though the only crawling thing I’ve seen in this desert so far was a little chuckwalla that crept into a crevice as I slowly approached it yesterday evening. Went out to smoke a butt sitting on a rusty tire not unlike my toilet except this time with my sweats on, reading Edward Abbey before stepping back into the trailer to eat a dried pear. Hair is matted, nostrils brittle with dry snot, the wind whips and the dogs bark. After breakfast I hull black walnuts, smashing them in a sandstone basin with another rock, picking out the meat with my knife. They were brought here to the dairy from Vermont or New Jersey and I think of the North East while sipping switchel. For lunch we ate a ham that had been roasted with carrots, potatoes, and sprigs of juniper. Someone made a loaf of bread with sour milk and old oatmeal and it reminded me of my mother. Paul took us to a ridge above the farm and I kicked at sand and screamed at the sawtooth mountains. The road was bumpy and I steadied myself by holding on to the window frame of the truck as we drove back to the dairy. I washed hardened blood and milk from a fridge in the cheese room and the bleach in the water burned the cuts on my hands.

Stayed at the Toaster House last night in Pie Town, New Mexico. Now we ride out to the Coonridge goat dairy. See you soon!