by Larry Brody
NOTE FROM LB:
I’ve decided to move on from Kid Hollywood and the Navajo Dog to the next, equally unsuccessful book in the series, called, not so oddly, The Return of the Navajo Dog. The picture above is, in fact, that dog, about halfway through the lifetime she spent with me.
We’re in Colorado there, and Dineh – the Navajo name for Navajo, which was the only name Dineh would respond to – had just growled the kind of growl that would terrify any being, alive or dead, sending a poor, out-meaned, full-blooded coyote slinking away from its kill.
The following poem is about events a bit earlier in our time together, and Dineh doesn’t figure into it. But she lived in the house I’m talking about, and I wish she lived in the one I’m sitting in now.
I Live In A Haunted House
I live in a haunted house in New Mexico,
On the east side of Santa Fe.
It’s an adobe so old that none of
The old-timers in the neighborhood can’t remember
When it wasn’t here. The last structure
I heard of with that same
Timeless past was Tintagel, in Cornwall,
Although I don’t believe my house is in the
Same league. No Merlin to abduct no baby
Arthur here, although there is a story about
Billy the Kid. This house, I’m told, is where
He stayed when he came to meet with
The governor, Lew Wallace, for a pardon.
But Billy’s not my ghost. Why would Billy the Kid
Open locked windows, light candles, turn
Pictures, and move knickknacks around?
That takes a different kind of mind.
All my life I’ve been haunted, but not like
This, and while it has its picturesque side,
I miss my privacy. Ghosts know no boundaries,
No walls, no locked doors,
And no matter how much I open myself,
I keep finding there’s more to hide.
I live in a haunted house in Santa Fe.
What do you suppose my ghost
Will do when I move away?
Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. Although the book whose cover you see above is for sale on Kindle, he is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.