2020 Albuquerque American Place New Mexico Poems Road Less Travelled

Rio del Ciudad

Her curves cut through him
She is the center of his life
All roads in his city

End upon her shores; Her Mountains
–Earthquakes, Time and her origins–
Embrace him Day and Night

Wind and heat; parch and monsoon
She drinks from the sky
to bring his thirst to an end

He lights Her nights and
bridges her spans
They form this imperfect circle

One man, called by many names
Beeʼeldííl Dahsinil; Arawageeki; Vakêêke;
Alo:ke:k’ya; Gołgéeki’yé — now AL-bə-kur-kee

One woman, loved by the people
mets’ichi chena, posoge, paslápaane
hañapakwa, Tó Baʼáadi, Female River, Great Waters, Rio Grande

2019 Garden Psalms Poems Road Less Travelled


You and I have both known men
Who didn’t know their fathers
And in the end when daddy
dies their ship’s afloat no anchor.

I am a rare and fortun’te one
To have a father I’ve known
Throughout my life, for good
for bad who kept the lighthouse on.

So many stumble in the dark
No hand to guide them through
Your faith, your light against the void
You always knew what to do.

Yes, we are the rare and fortunate ones
to share these times with you
May we pass on just a little of your light
To those who need it too.

“How may I be of service?”

2019 Ars Poetica Poems Road Less Travelled

Prison of judgment

Oh my God are you okay?
You’re writing poetry everyday?
“Geez, oh Pete’s are you alright?”
Write rhymes of reason every night?
What prostrations come from you?
This urgent burst for what is true?
Self-indulgent acts of pride?
Surely you think of suicide?
How can you waste your time, my dear?
With flights of fancy, sex and fear!
Think of yourself as a poet, son?
Give me example of just one?
Who’s as loud as your TV?
My god, boy—they don’t even read!
People you now “represent”?
Locked in a prison of judgement…
Who are you to decide what is present?

Poems Road Less Travelled

I was a child

My early poems were childish.
Then again I was a child.

2013 Poems Road Less Travelled

I’ll Catch Up To You There

For Granny

The sun is always
shining on The Road.

It’s the place I go
to be with them,
my ancestors,
my fellows, my friends.

It is where I walk
quietly, alone
Thinking of days past
and lives well lived.

There’s no time
Out on The Road
Out of the hustle and
Bustle of everyday lives,
Just the place
where I keep walking,
talking with the
Ones I Love.


Elizabeth Sutherlin, March 7, 1917 – October 1, 2013