Up in those canyons far Riudoso way
Runs a white stallion so legends do say
Near Apache Mountain & high among silk clouds
Prances haunted white steed free of his shrouds
Upgrade we pull hoofs pawing earth
Load more heavy than surely it's worth
Darkest of nights & no ghost by my side
Alone am I on this ancient land's ride
When last well ahead my senses do behold
'Twas naught but ever cold & dark road
Yet out of corner of my weary left eye
Wild white horse so then did I spy
Running aside me or so 'twould seem
Was this white stallion all blazing a'gleam
Head held high & hoofs sparklin' gold
'Twas that wild stallion of legends so told
'Round top bend just before grade
Challenge o'me this white fury then made
Down down down so I went
Energy wasted & time all but spent
'Twas cold that night or so did it feel
'Twas only that which made this seem real
For this white stallion such baron o'death
Ran so close I could feel his hot breath
Down down down then we plundered
Oft o'such feeling I'd lazily wondered
Yet now 'twas all but a race in time old
'Tween me & that charger o'blood done run cold
Turn after turn through canyon we sped
As if 'twas from that very devil we fled
Yet now I saw that truly indeed
'Twas that devil himself was that white steed
Los Cruces peak looms far up ahead
Deserts white & canyon walls red
I've run again faster than he
That wild white stallion who would so be me
Now it is said that illusions will play
With mind & eye in these deserts each day
I cannot be he whom may so judge
The why of such mountain which up I did trudge
Yet all said & done & time now back slowed
Across from that valley where river once flowed
Stands that white stallion as if to me say
Why not turn 'round & we shall so again play
the white stallion in this rime-tale is thought to have been the long
time nemesis of the earliest of travelers headed out Alamagordo way
from Roswell's Bottomless Lake westerly bound from the Texas panhandle...
indeed, this once weary traveler, having run from the Texas arroyos
through the New Mexico shifting sands & up Riudoso Canyon way...
did often encounter this fabled white steed...
He always appeared in the depths of the night... always dis-appeared
just before the last turn into the white sands of the desert below...
One day.... when refueling my Perterbilt "big-truck" in Roswell...
over a steak & eggs chow-down, in conversation with the local speed-cops
(as they are called)... I spoke of these encounters...
& was told that were I ever to have run the canyon by day I would have noticed
that for each house or dwelling (this is an Indian reservation...) is a corral
& within each such enclosure is one or more white horses; & that all
such corrals are prone to disrepair & that it may not be uncommon
for the inhabitants of such to be found wanderin' the canyons at night...
returning by day for food & water.
I accepted such as a fine explanation & continued on my way into the canyon....
Perhaps though, I was not as entirely convinced as it may have seemed....
For... an old Apache Warrior once told me that this fabled stallion of whom I rime
is the last of the Apache Warrior Spirits.... & still wildly ranges his canyons
& that he chooses very carefully those with whom he runs through the nights......