Nevadan to Nevadan

On the way to the morning meeting
your cathedral of chrome glints.
TV howl, starburst guts, blackhole heart,
the sound wind makes into its own beginning. A man shaves into…

In the realm of emotions vast, profound,
My affection for you knows no bounds.
Not a thesaurus did I employ,
Yet words can’t contain this heartfelt joy.

You know it’s true, there’s something you can do.
I want to say that we can start today.
I hope by now you know what we’re talking about.

To all the Dreamers who believe Las Vegas is their golden ticket
to all the riches they desire, answer to their prayers
that all Nevada has to offer is a single strip of pavement…

In the vast gold desert region of Nevada, sagebrush whispers secrets.
Beneath the broad desert sky, mountains rise with raw pride.

My strip mall haven
Where the lights never fade
A man sits on the corner.
The people we pretend not to…

Red Rock
Freemont
Spring Mountain
when you ask
what Vegas has to offer outside of The Strip…

Hey guess what? You made it back to Vegas. But I’ll confess there’s been some changes.

Flirty mountain walks and art covered spaces replaced 99 cent shrimp cocktails, and messy…

There are refugee camps in Las Vegas.
I know this because my students live there.
A boy from Afghanistan pretends to read. When I help him, he covers his face with his small…

I’m old enough to remember a time before the war.
Before the rift. The schism.
When we were one.
Area.
Big as we were.

Crimson fins pierce the amber sky,
Earth’s ancient pulse flaming in the light.
Wind keens through curved canyons, an ageless cry –

Vegas brings much,
Giving Nevadans and tourists a bunch,
From the Golden Knights

Nevada, where the desert’s warm hug is ignited by breathtaking sunsets,
Stories whispered through winds that leave a trace.
Majestic mountains reaching towards an endless sky,
Canyons etched with timeless legends catch the eye.

The city scene is quite the sight, not a moment dull,
Bustling with life: important business people heading to work
At 5 am sharp, nurses spending the morning monitoring their patients,

I believe Mesquite had a term for Vegas, where cacti tower tall beneath the scorching desert heat.

“Hello, bright metropolis with a blaze of lights,
I’m a humble tree, but I have some wisdom.”

This place is boring

The deeper the roads go

The drier the air becomes

There is nothing but dirt

But

All over Nevada
I am surrounded
By prickly plants that fill the sands,
Joshua trees,

Once a vibrant blue jewel,
A haven for sun and sand,
Now I shrink, a thirsty ghoul,
Scorched by an unforgiving hand.

In the heart of the desert, where the wild winds roam,
Lies Nevada, a land of vastness, a place to call home.
Amidst the arid plains and mountains that soar,
Lies a tale of adventure, waiting to explore.

Under the glistening desert sky
A new sports team comes by
They strike fear into many opponents’ eyes
Whenever they come to try…

I have been hiding in a cold home, and burying myself behind thick shudders and thicker
locks. Your pockets are always full of people
You have a lot to say about tunnels and the neighborhoods down the road.
You are always talking and I wonder if you have importance here.

In Nevada’s embrace, where horizons expand,
Unveiling a canvas, vast and grand.
Where desert winds whisper ancient tales,
Across landscapes where beauty prevails:

Growing up in Vegas,
We never quite understand the appeal.
All the bright lights,
bright faces,
all the sin.

In the land where sagebrush whispers play,
Dear neighbor, in the quiet, here I say.
Coyotes roam near the railroad track,
Writing to you, no need to hold back.

When living in southern Nevada,
the mind often thinks
about sun, desert, and summer. While
winters are basic and ordinary, it’s the hot summers
that you’ll never forget. 

Dear Mother Nature,

As I sit inside my cozy warm home,
I contemplate going outside to roam.
Then I look at the snow falling all around,
A beautiful white blanket lay on the ground.

Listen…

I’m the quiet girl
The girl who minds her business
The girl who is well behaved…

High in the mountain

Such pretty views in the sky

A bird, flying by

Dear Reno,
In your streets, where the Truckee River dances,
I taste the dust of the Great Basin, a flavor of resilience.
The neon glow of the arch whispers tales of endless nights,
As the Sierra Nevada watches over, silent and majestic.

Thinking of you while driving home, Startled coyote crosses my path
Its eyes shining bright
Reflection of my headlight
I wonder if I will see it tomorrow
Or a night after
This sighting is rare these days 

Dear Nevada, my vast expanse of dreams,
Where Fremont Street’s neon gleams, in ’86,
a snapshot in time, 

Captured by Owen, a poetic rhyme. 

In Nevada’s golden land, dreams take flight,
Mountains touch the sky, desert whispers at night.

From Stardust to Modern-Day Las Vegas,
I started it! I’m the one!
I’m the original!
The one that had so much fun.
And you imploded me anyway!

In the neon-lit arena,
swords of silver clash,
Golden Knights emerge,
armored in flash.

The groggy and stuffy air
To the dry and hot air
The snow storms every winter
To the sand storms every summer

I come from an immigrant family.

Nevada has always been the place to chase dreams.

(The smell of the fresh breeze
The sun hitting skin
The noises from a slot machine in a casino
The buildings that light up at night, seamlessly replacing the lack of stars)

Dedicated to my son Captain Adam T. Gross, USMC (retired after 22 years of active duty)

“… From the mountains, to the prairies,/ To the oceans, white with foam …” God Bless America by Irving Berlin

Who lives in the house of freedom? Do you?
Do you celebrate your expansive view?
With a microbrew, or fine chardonnay,
do you raise a toast on Independence Day
to our grand old flag: to the red, white, and blue?

I noticed your walls first.
So many walls along the highway
and between neighborhoods
sometimes with gates
and walls between neighbors

To Las Vegas,
I love how you brought hockey,
which brings team support
and people together.
The Raiders are not doing so hot

There is a mother here
in the rubble and the dust,
as far as I ever got I came back to her,
loved her
loved myself
in her image.

Think of Vegas, a beloved city
It’s bright, bright everywhere
People gamble, gamble all the time
Maybe you can! (If you want to)

Mountains, hills, rocks
Sections of forests
Rocks of all sorts all around
Granite, metamorphic rocks
Dust, dirt, sediments
Rusty red, dusty pinks, shades of brown.

Every hello is bridled by deception
Vegas is a body snatcher
Always on the prowl

Neon pulsates like heartbeats
Glass towers cast golden showers
Light beams blind us…

So open and generous, you run through my hair with your soft breezy fingers you
caress my skin with your warm toasty touch
Your welcoming spirit and light hearted appeal
never make me feel like a stranger 

On the hill of boundless beauty in Washoe Valley stands your home and mine.  In-between and all around us is a desert life filled with wonder.  A desert that reminds me of you.

Like the owl that graces us with her hoots amid the fabric of nocturnal symphony, she bellows great knowledge and wisdom and I think of you.  Something new and interesting or full of insight and perception always pops up when I am with you.

Dear Nancy: The weather has changed here. The sun lower,
the shadows longer, heavier, draped across the Nevada desert like
a weighted blanket shadowing the shifting sands. I keep wondering
are we, were we, friends, or simply mentor and mentee with blurred…

I.

My duty was complete.

My “Bonus Baby” was grown and starting adult adventures.

It would be just the cat and me.

I searched for a new home, alone, secretly afraid.

Losing control of your livelihood puts your pride at risk
In a state with no rent control, living on the margins of Sin City is a closer reality than hitting it big at the slots
Trying to keep your dignity intact while being singled out for trying to exist
I’ve seen them kick you out of restrooms and roadside tents…

Dearest Judy,
While I will be out of phone contact until Sunday, you will be everywhere about me in the peaceful Sierra.

I will hear your voice singing in the brook, your pert whistle in the sough of the firs. I will see your lovely eyes in the restless doe that will bound away after a fleeting look…

The beauty of living here is that I’ve never known life outside my roots.

I’ve always been connected to my tree.

While not a branch, I’ve built my nest in a quiet burrow surrounded by leaves.

I fly out to explore and adventure but always return to my tree. 

I am safe here. 

I first glimpsed you from the backseat of a rental car
As I lowered my frail teenage body to sleep.
Someday I’ll face death like that: jet-lagged from the trip
across dimensions. I plugged headphones into the night
to distill it: why must I cry in such beautiful places? 

okay so my dog is named after you which i
think is a little on the nose because he is also
brown capped with white but in a way you
could say my dog is a mountain man which is
funny to me because he is actually literally
such a city boy like he can’t imagine wide open

dear one, you require no pardoning. you are acquitted
of the wrong of you; release that sense of worthlessness;
you are relieved of the burden of worth. unwind 

I sit along this dark, dusty road
Stare at the setting sun
Lick the grit on my lips

The soil is cracked and dry
most of the time,
home to cacti and shrubbery,

She had her own damn cart,
wheeled it into the aisle.
But she didn’t have enough money,
so she sandwiched her body 

In spite of all the heartbreak
From the many divorces
And rings tossed aside

I awake through the sagebrush
with dust on my nose. Yes,
I was buried alive here years ago,

When my heart aches, carry me to high desert.
The heart of the desert
is a dune blown and spare.

I am hard-working and confident in my blue walker.
I wonder how the world works in the chaos
I hear waves crashing against each other

Right now, another fire in the haunted north
takes everything back – a piece of sky
the sky has no right to claim, the cattle-

your electric beat,
the hiss of white heat
keeps you kicking for the glitter gulch gals

It’s been a long time, Mojave Max.
Cult classic,
that thing you do.
It makes the crowds buckle at their knees every time — the

THE BLAZING SUN HUGGED THE METAL BOAT TIGHTLY LIKE LOVERS NOT TO BE SEPARATED

SHE CAST HER LINE INTO THE DANCING WATER…

Nelson:

Why would I give you a second thought?
I, Rhyolite, am revered and commonly adored.
I remind my visitors of a prosperous time,
When carriages plied my streets,
A destination for all the elites…

In Early City Hours
Everything still
in black and gray

Color creeps in
all Pale cheeks
and
Pooling eyes

Dear Jeanne: “It’s a world of play and there are lots of ways.”
Do you remember when I chased you down
after the first day of class and asked,
“Can one make a living as a poet?”

Thunder cracked through the sky as the afternoon rainstorm
made its way through the valley, washing down the 82° day,
the antithesis of last week’s snow burst…

is waiting for stars to fall 

and become mosaic

trail paths where a lead-pierced duck

flails from the mouth 

of an obeying dog…

A chemical imbalance
better describes
what I do every night
as an adult…

Remember how it was?
My whole body agreeing  

with your mouth. We split
a mist beneath the buzzing glow of vacancy…

Haunted hotel, abandoned,
but we knew the man with the key—
not a coaster man,
a bullets-on-the-nightstand man…

My desert daughter
is cradled
in the swaths
of warm whispering winds…

Dear Marilyn, 

I never got a chance to say thank you for that hug, for the way you put your arms around us. Pulled us close. “I just love little girls” you whispered into our ears, our hair, along our rounded cheeks…

“I am seventeen
you are the two-faced genie towering over Carpeteria, the flooring emporium.
One fat roll cast across your blue shoulders inverts mass into shadow in the parking lot as if…”

“Here, winds chime, slots whir, whips crack, bunnies ranch.
We cozy, windows open, summer solstice, slice of music,

hint of sage, or is that pot? Coyote howls full moon.
Berries bask in pre-dawn mist
    of northern valleys.”

“The Donnor party died in you
and still I claim their bodies.
Students in Roseville aren’t taught
that 39 people lie dead in the Sierra Nevada…”

“If nature is wonderful
harsh real complex and beautiful.

How are you not?“

“Living a life where the mountains breathe
You can see the breeze
Through your fingers
Through your hair…“

“Dear Rhyolite:
You peevish popinjay, you strutted your paved streets,
As if you owned the world.
Who boasted telephone service back then?”

“Your familiar places
have fallen and crumbled-
the empty no longer.

Luxury apartments,
food courts,
and boutiques
have chased away
childhood hangouts.”

“I saw you at the concert, you and your friend,
Black top with the strobe light, something about it did you so right.
Black hair blended into the dimmed lights
a rockstar vibe…“

“Under fluorescent lights and amber moon,
I breathe you in, my little flower.
Vermillion lips beneath periwinkle sky…“

“Yesterday I thought of you
Cycling on Riverside Drive
Seeing how They finally did cut down those trees
We all knew They were lying…“

“The wind whips fiercely against my
flesh. Invisible yet mighty.
The smells of exhaust and sage fill my nose…”

“Dear Falcon View Ct.,

Thank you for providing me the comfort and security of four walls and a roof over my head.

The kitchen where my family is found staying up late talking,
sitting and leaning against the countertops…”

“Your mother was (is) my friend.
I’ve only known your father
on reckless driving nights—”

–Carson City, March 2023

“Have I already
said too much
about the weather,
the way rain sheets
across the road
into the dingy
polyhedrons of last…”

“The cold breeze tightens bones
Crunchy leaves fall dead on the ground
If time did not exist, if months and days were all the same,
You would mistake that for Winter…”

“I wake with the sun, ball of fire in the east.
The sky glows dark blue then green then blue again.
Looking between the roofs across from the window,
I see mountains planted in the distance, giant white letters scrawled on their faces.”

“Miss,

I know you yearn to leave.
To feel the frigid winds on your pelt,
sprint miles through hills of sand,
sneeze from the pollen of sagebrush on your nose…”

“Dear Mom,

Everything is more vibrant here
The art that lines the streets
The entertainment in this neon city at night…”

for the women who worked at Basic Magnesium, Inc.

“When you drive past BMI, you can almost hear
Glenn Miller and The Ink Spots in the background.
Nearly 15,000, how far did they travel?”

“My dearest Nevada,

When I look out the window
I see blinding city lights. I no
longer see the shining stars…”

“In fact I hate the sage
And I don’t much care for pine.
This may be the place I was raised
But it is not where I wish to stay.”

“Dainty legs high kick.
Pink feathered showgirl costume.
Flamingo Rockette.”

“Let Me Tell You about the Visitors

Somedays I’ll spot a pretty band grazing on the range
And I’ll just pull up a rock and sit
And pass the time taking pictures from the ground
And wait for them…” 

“You are built on bones.
Stone bones of the mountain,
wood bones of the mine shafts,
chalk bones of the miners...”

“To the Mirage Meadow Vegas Valley,
Had someone shown me
the Spring Mountains at dawn
I might have loved you at the start…”

“When I tell people I’m from Vegas,
I’m often asked,
‘Did you grow up in a casino?’”

“Dear Las Vegas:

I know we scarcely talk these days; in time we’ve grown apart. You the older sister, me the young upstart…“

“I swaggered Fifth-Generation Nevadan around until a friend said
that means you came from the takers of my homelands. 

Never thought Buffy Sainte Marie sang welcome, welcome immigrantes to us Natives…“

“Dear Las Vegas Strip,

I am Highway 50, the road less traveled,
A winding journey that’s often unraveled.
But I see you there, shining bright…”

“I say ‘friend’ but I don’t know you, just that we live in the same state.  But does that mean anything? 

How’s the dry desert from your end?“

“The snowflakes dance within the streets of the winter night,
Slow and fast, dressing the people in their cold touch,
Descending from the sky to our delight,
Creating a playground in our small home-town. It will never be too much.“

“Occasional visits
Escapes from the chaos
Metal hitting metal
A circus, a crawl
Yard long cocktails…”

“It’s snowing again

and still. 

I feel like I always start my letters 

this way these days, but winter…“

“Our Dearest Nevadans,

In our long history of symbiosis, you’ve stayed far away, looked on with a watchful, sometimes
whimsical eye, fed us your out-door cats, and let your children giggle as they see our people
cross the road at stoplights, (though we are fond of jaywalking as a species we know.)”

“What they don’t tell you about Nevada
Before you come here
Is that there are many secrets…”

“The desert road
late at night.
The sky diamond dusted
if you turn the headlights off..”

for Shirley and her daughters

“When the bottom fell out of copper and gold blew the roof off, our family moved to Nevada and swapped out Saguaro, prickly pear, and jumping cactus for Joshua, Virginia Creeper, and any of…”

“when we lived in the mountains, it was aspen
we saw on our weekly hikes neon green leaves
pristine against slender trunks of gray ash…”

“A wind slashes through the valley,
not blowing or soughing but massacring everything in its path.
Only the sagebrush, grey bodies crouched…”

“You don’t know.
This farkakte state is full of us,
meshuga for coming here, but
here we are.
Beyond the
dentists
doctors
lawyers
professors…”

“Of course, I’m grateful for the snowpack.
City and citizens here understand
water is life, but everyone I see
cracks and splinters…”

“The Quail Trial footings’ steady as a saint.
Solemn snow squalls swarm…”

“El mundo está tan enojado, la gente está perdida, herida, rota. Antes incluso de que tuvieras un idioma, mi gente estaba aquí.…”

“Time was I’d want to take you home
Make you mine
Ride you as you raced the wind…”

“I never intended to return to your bone-dry,
high-pollen, sinus-destroying high desert air,
drawing cracks into the fragile skin of my hands
with your ridiculous lack of moisture…”

“First time I crash landed in the desert
blue sagebrush nipped at my ankles,
cold elbows darted in and out of spotty moonlight…”

“went to the poetry gathering
in elko, nevada
trying to keep an open mind
about rhymes
blankets of stars
& cowboy bars…”

“The Old Mormon Fort,
dead now, was born
of adobe. Provisional,
the sticks, straw, and mud…”

“Dear Water,
Please come and never go,
Your presence brings us highs and little lows.
They say Nevada is devoid of water,
To that I say how do we exist?”

“I was born in a neon city —
Learned, grew, and loved there.
And then I moved to another
The only other in my state,
For cheap tuition and a change of pace.
It’s neon nonetheless.”

“I. A Father’s Right, I Already Know the Desert (This Kind of Family)

When your grandfather said, his face picked clean
of any humor, I’ve already found the place for your grave
if you hurt her, I simply shook his hand”

“The pine cones rest like hand grenades
as the same couple feed the same ducks
except the large white one,
now missing in action.”

“Through the glass I view a branch, a dry stick
Dangling singularly from a dead tree,
And it hits me in the pit like a brick:
A spade that’s made for removing debris”

“I will never know if, when I run out
of fuel on I-15—it’s happened more
than once—it is because I have no doubt…”

“Was that cattle?
Winter hollows Huffaker sounds.
Can you see Slide, Mount Rose, Peavine?”

“I’m hesitant to tell you now
if only because I fear it is all you will remember:
the way it entered the room,
the softness with which it broke the frost…”

“Dear Adam,
We’re old! I hate it. Or I hate it just enough to ignore it, at least for now. When we were at UNR together didn’t the world seem like a slightly worked over place that nevertheless contained little gristlings of shine and spark everywhere?”

““How” those boys blurted out, hands raised in Ke-mo-sah-bee fashion, in
unison!—with recalcitrant sneers stretched across their pock-marked faces. They
were, I surmised, the hipster kids of Virginia City,—14…”

“Rain
Infrequent here in high desert
Smells like battery acid”

“First things first:
It’s Ne-VAD-uh not Ne-VAH-duh.
that needs to be clear.
Hugged by mountain range,
it’s unimaginable what it’s like…”

“I’m hesitant to tell you now
if only because I fear it is all you will remember:
the way it entered the room,
the softness with which it broke the frost…”

“To the elk hunters,
(Special ones with no success
Why? No longer guess)

Nevada elk tag!
Grabbed the gear. Horses, mules led.
Tents up, dinner, bed.”

“Summers ago,
When I worked at a summer camp
I remember that everyday
The kids would go swimming,
Just a part of their schedule.”

“The place I live is a desert in the west.
They call it a wasteland like it’s
An open trash bin. A place to be avoided,
A place you overlook.”

“High on “C” Mountain
above town, two boys sit,
their heads over sagebrush,
and out-of-breath, looking down.”

“Unlikely,
Unheard of!

Only May,
the mountain is already burning,
worst drought in history.”

“Dear Fellow Non-NEVADIANS (Pronounced: Ne-VAH-THEEANS),

In this booming state of wildflowers, one wouldn’t think that our state flower, the sagebrush…”

“To the Nevadan night
Though we both occupy the same space
In this long forgotten West
You, who are full of neon cowboys…”

“Twang your magic twanger Froggy,
Light up that cigar, meet me at the slots.
Bring your compadres, all the players,
all the tricksters, generations of try your luck,
down on your luck, if only all the luck I had
wasn’t bad luck.”

“Las Vegas is a goddess of rebirth, walking between
two worlds like Persephone.
Dripping in neon, she struts the Strip
with a sly grin while sipping on a martini.“

“I cannot explain how happy I am,
You decided to make me your home,
I was once alone
But you brought: love, light and people.”

“Those curves on the hot street,
The strip of shape below the shoulder,
The glitter against pale walking past me,”

“I write a poem
About the Wild Horse,
‘Cause there’s a lot of feeling here,
Albeit much suffering
And abuse by Man – most gruesome!”

“I have come back to you once again
Valley of Fire
to where ghost feet pad at night,
use sagebrush brooms to sweep away…”

“The company I moved here for just let me go,
but I’ve decided I’m staying in Reno.
I can’t blame them for the pink slip,
I haven’t been the same since dad died.“

“I spoke to God, to which he smited his smite:
flicked mercury towards the top notch,
whispered sin to water and lakes
strode to California, dragged his nail…”

“Reno, I walk my life with you
the way October spins out these days.
We are both slow, but
the year and I aren’t dying yet.”

“The filthy city
Is buffered by
Ranges of mountains.
Is it to keep the refuse in
Or keep nature out?”

“Feel it coming
in the heat of summer day.
Over the horizon,
smoke rolls high and black.
Rails gleam and shimmer in sunlight.”

“Vegas, When I was a Kid
When I was a kid I hated this town.
Back then,
I hated how every time someone mentioned Vegas in a movie
It’s cause they wanted to be reckless and destructive.”

“Two girls laughing and sharing secrets
Walking under leafy trees showing off their autumn colors
Through narrow streets of older bungalows and cottages.
“I’m going to live here one day,” says one of them.”

“To those who have never seen me,
What do you think when you think of Nevada?
Do you envision rolling waves of scorched sands
That cover my bones of silver deposits?”

“Dear Deanna,
Hi, Big Sister,
it’s time that you know,
Why we moved here five years ago,
Determined to start a brand new life,
We left the smog and stress and strife,
For Nevada’s gorgeous views,
This place might be perfect for you.”

“So, Dear Nevada—
as an artist I see
you are
inherently abstracted full of color”

“All the stories I know about Horse are second hand
and told to me by Buffalo, an oiler with long hair
who met him deep in the belly of an open pit
fifty-five miles out Jungo Road at the hard rock, Hycroft mine.”

“Snow racing down hills
Turning, spinning, dancing
Over the landscape
Like some ghostly spirit”

“I’m passing by tonight, giving you a two-fingered wave!
Can you see our headlights across the Big Smoky like Slow-motion meteors heading east on the Loneliest Road?
Hey, Spencer! First time we met was 40 years ago!”

“¡Hola, tía! ¿Qué honda?
I’m fine. It’s really the sky that scares me. It can turn from the brightest morning to the gloomy rain and solemn snow. I’m used to always being in danger, dark,”

“The car rolls smoothly over Interstate 80.
Lovelock, Winnemucca, Battle Mountain: Basin and Range.
I’m riding through it, and it’s riding through me.”

“Home is no longer Connecticut
I do not wake up to my dad making breakfast, his famous french toast
I no longer hangout with my friends at the beach”

“Nearly 20 years ago
We shared a dressing room, you and I. Dark, of course, with that unmistakable Mashup of makeup, sweat, musty decay…”

“I say a great dad lets his kid be
who she is, a mother, not a mother.
In place of grandchildren, a great dad—
who would love nothing more…”

“In the morning, the sounds of the coffee pot brewing wake me up from my sleep. You call my name from the kitchen to ask if I want a cup. I say yes. I lay on my back because the bed leaves me sore…”

“Dear Child

“Flat earth, all my life that’s all I know
I agree that your view from the highlands is Red rocks, Roof rats and Dry valleys”

“Nevada,
You’ve been running through my head again like a coyote with its loose skin hanging off of its body, panting through a labyrinth…”

“I’m glad you asked me about this strange
October gripped in time’s power, but slow to cool.
A poet I read thought resurrection
might look like autumn in Reno…”

“Sorry. And I mean it.
You arrive on my porch in the early hours, sniff and scratch amongst the flowers.
You look at the camera, you want to be a movie star. In my eyes, you already are…”

“To Old Growth Vegas,
I write to you with experience of life from other places. I come to you from my
pilgrimage to this unsure-of-itself town. I’m confused by your education and your sinking foundation…”

“I woke up today and there was smoke in my lungs.
Coughing doesn’t help, it just wakes up the dog.
Outside, the smoke swirls through the pine trees and paints them with ash…”

“We were once water
wide as rainbows,
deep as trenches
‘til one day, we dried up…”

“I used to think that it was all about the classic cars
I used to think that it was all about the paint jobs I used to think that it was all about the rain that would come down right when the judging begins…”

“You always came to visit
but now you’re here to stay Your sister and your parents
They miss you everyday”

“Letter for Clark County —
Pale
day chases
pale night,
and yet pallid…”

“Hello,
I hope you’re doing well.
Even if you aren’t,
I know you’re probably doing better than me…”

“We stood on the mound behind your tin-can
house, overlooking the Catholic cemetery. Surrounded by the native flora of our planet…”

“What can I say?
So much; so many things:
Does snow fall on deserts?
Do wild horses play where coyotes roam?”

“Dear Lake Tahoe,
Unlike all the other cities in Nevada
A home
The foundation of who I am now…”

“Dear Lake Mead,
How does it feel
to once be created
by the hand of man?”

“One night you will wake up, unsettled,
grab a book to read a passage
that once brought you light.”

“There are fond memories of sitting under the dull glow of string lights,
One late fall night, in the plaza across from Reno’s only Sizzle Pie…”

“Dear Power Lines,
How did we come to call you that, anyway?
Every neighborhood has a Spot with a capital “S”— “

“This place is history with a beauty all its own. The land is vast and mostly treeless which allows the eye to see for miles: how the wagon trains of pioneers heading west, itching to get to the promise of nuggets lying on the ground must have felt when they saw miles and miles of desert ground…”

“A familiar breeze moves against the sagebrush.
Rain-made aromas drift across the plain
Utter sweet and gentle salutations that please, make good memory.”

“Las Vegas
The city that never sleeps,
Until it does.”

“I’m told I have a brother up north—northeast to be exact.
He lives in a little town called Wendover,
last civilization in Nevada before you hit
the Utah border.”

Losing count of the cycles days
Since I broke containment, escaped that place
(What did they call it? Area 51?)

“Hey, Nevada, believe me, I really do hear you
I know how incredibly frustrated you must be
They don’t even pronounce your name right…”

“After 10 years,
it’s only fair that I’m honest.
I’d met you just once before
in passing.
I was young, 15 or 16.
Nothing too memorable;
just a drive by.”

“When Virginia Street was the main street
no one had dreamed of putting in a freeway yet.
Campus was a mere five thousand students…”

“Shannon was late for our coffee date. A coyote got hold of a small dog, was dragging it across HWY 50 when she had to slam on her brakes…”

“I am Tonopah and I am alive
I am the heart and the soul of the past
I am the future and I will survive…”

“We both found something in Nevada
About a hundred and thirty years apart
You passing through, a kid afoot with a wagon train…”

“Like many others, when I was new to the Nevada desert I saw so little.
Few trees, few buildings, few animals, few people…”

“We built fires and doctored the world with the sounds of our dancing.
We scoured the stratified earth where we overlapped, and found stones that we fashioned into shrines for the demigods of our skeletons…”

“Already I am waiting for autumn
and its small glimpses of resurrection:
At Idlewild, the leaves will change…”

“If this was November and I was Robert Frost
I would begin this letter with salutations
and an allusion to the color of the leaves…“

“I am Corn Creek. I’ve given birth to Las Vegas. I am the creator and giver of life. My sun shines brightly through monsoon clouds, opening up the eyes to heavenly earth…”

“In the time we spent at the park’s shared picnic table
talking into the wee hours of night, you taught me
how to say Ely with the same grace and gentle smile…”

“i told them they remind me of you. that’s right—
it’s not just me anymore. now i’m left to wonder:
how much of us is left in the air when we’ve gone?”

“She was a gambler, she never betted money, but she gambled with his life.
The boy remembers as a kid growing up in the Midwest, life was simple.
When he became an adult, his father reluctantly told him her secret…”