Hermit’s Peak looks alien, looks sharp against our softly curved sky. The mountain is littered with crevices and caves, its peak rising 3700 feet above Las Vegas. The monolith was once called El Cerro del Tecolote, The Hill Of The Owl, by early Spanish settlers. Old stories tell of a wise feathered messenger from heaven who reminded travelers to …

by Birdie Jaworski

Two handsome men, their chiseled young faces grinning with anticipation, poke each other in the ribs as they swap drinking glasses, one full, one empty. Bartender Kevin Christenson, 25, doesn’t notice; he’s pouring me a pint of Amber Bock, carefully tipping a tall, tapered glass against spout to provide the proper proportions of foamy head and …

by Birdie Jaworski

Twelve miles north of a sleepy Northeastern New Mexican town, the invisible ghosts of majestic beasts roam the outskirts of a manmade lake. 100 million years ago, claw-toed and sloe-eye monsters jockeyed for position here, fought for tender greens, for succulent flesh. The guttural cry of flying reptiles – wingspans as large as 40 feet across – echoed …

by Birdie Jaworski

If you can’t pick who you want for President, you can always pick piñon.
An old woman squats close to the ground next to a short, squat pine. She wears a thick cabled sweater to protect her from the wind cascading across Starvation Peak. Her hands scurry through fallen needles, sifting for tiny elongated seed pods, dumping them by …

The road to San Augustin passes nothing, nothing but a pistol-pitted sign welcoming travelers to county road C-24, nothing but dry wind and green-gold prairie, the asphalt twisting in deference to property line and gulch, pockets of fattened cows standing bored sentinel. I drove slower than the speed limit, my son riding shotgun, and watched the sun fall from my …

My lungs filled with the rich aroma of roasting green chile as I waited my turn at the gas pumps.  Gabriel continued filling the tank of a tired elementary teacher. She slumped in the seat of her beat Ford Escort, head propped against the seat rest, as if five minutes of fuel could hopefully mimic twelve hours of good sleep. …

by Birdie Jaworski
Soft cocoons of blue and wilted yellow vibrate, collected together in a nest spun of capillary and experience. Scored into four equal segments surrounded by deliberate black void, Alex Ellis’ encaustic painting, “Mystery Map #1,” reminds the viewer of tired eyes, of internal organs fighting for direction, for space to expand. At once otherworldly and deeply intimate, Ellis’ …