Marfa, Texas — Back to the ruins, sunlight that flew in on dessert air, perfect there,
The night has chopped the heat in half, so I pull a blanket over as I sing the dawn,
In the background, the grounding train, cattle braying, dogs talking them out of straying,
And birds, birds, the always birds, sing along as I sing words.
It’s this town that has my mind unwound,
Logic lost in praise of sound,
These words they come in meaning clumps,
One to the other without bumps.