Trace Journals
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Roots, Wings, & Vestiges
Of History, Culture & Community
TraceJournals.com
Carlos Alejandro
Of History, Culture & Community
TraceJournals.com
Carlos Alejandro
San Miguel Chapel is known in Santa Fe simply as “The Oldest Church”, and it is referenced in Wikipedia as the oldest church in the continental United States.
Oral history holds that San Miguel Chapel was built around 1610. It has been rebuilt and restored several times over the past 400 years.
Oral history holds that San Miguel Chapel was built around 1610. It has been rebuilt and restored several times over the past 400 years.
November 30, 2025 at 12:18 AM
San Miguel Chapel is known in Santa Fe simply as “The Oldest Church”, and it is referenced in Wikipedia as the oldest church in the continental United States.
Oral history holds that San Miguel Chapel was built around 1610. It has been rebuilt and restored several times over the past 400 years.
Oral history holds that San Miguel Chapel was built around 1610. It has been rebuilt and restored several times over the past 400 years.
Always
The sky is splitting
the trees are bare
The air is dense with certainty
The moon is rising,
waxing hidden
Pulling at the seas
Steely gray clouds
Rolling in early darkness
Closing like stage curtains
A fate that was
Just beyond our vision
Now fading in the rain.
The sky is splitting
the trees are bare
The air is dense with certainty
The moon is rising,
waxing hidden
Pulling at the seas
Steely gray clouds
Rolling in early darkness
Closing like stage curtains
A fate that was
Just beyond our vision
Now fading in the rain.
November 28, 2025 at 5:46 PM
Always
The sky is splitting
the trees are bare
The air is dense with certainty
The moon is rising,
waxing hidden
Pulling at the seas
Steely gray clouds
Rolling in early darkness
Closing like stage curtains
A fate that was
Just beyond our vision
Now fading in the rain.
The sky is splitting
the trees are bare
The air is dense with certainty
The moon is rising,
waxing hidden
Pulling at the seas
Steely gray clouds
Rolling in early darkness
Closing like stage curtains
A fate that was
Just beyond our vision
Now fading in the rain.
An empty red wing blackbird nest
In top curve of a maple tree
The last leaves of the seasons past hang on
Like dreams and memories
Not able to be released…
Nor held onto
Always and never to be
In top curve of a maple tree
The last leaves of the seasons past hang on
Like dreams and memories
Not able to be released…
Nor held onto
Always and never to be
November 24, 2025 at 10:28 PM
An empty red wing blackbird nest
In top curve of a maple tree
The last leaves of the seasons past hang on
Like dreams and memories
Not able to be released…
Nor held onto
Always and never to be
In top curve of a maple tree
The last leaves of the seasons past hang on
Like dreams and memories
Not able to be released…
Nor held onto
Always and never to be
Paper Thin
Paper like birch
Shedding the time rolled up
Inside of itself
Sits without notice
In light that circles
Endlessly
Paper like birch
Shedding the time rolled up
Inside of itself
Sits without notice
In light that circles
Endlessly
November 14, 2025 at 1:03 AM
Paper Thin
Paper like birch
Shedding the time rolled up
Inside of itself
Sits without notice
In light that circles
Endlessly
Paper like birch
Shedding the time rolled up
Inside of itself
Sits without notice
In light that circles
Endlessly
In the Next Life
When the flowers are done
And the grasses’ve gone to seed
The leaves have fallen
Or been shaken from their trees
When the wind is cold
And the owls ask
When the light fades
Without twilight
It is time to let go
Of the comfort
Of summer
As the fading colors
Drain into the cold earth
When the flowers are done
And the grasses’ve gone to seed
The leaves have fallen
Or been shaken from their trees
When the wind is cold
And the owls ask
When the light fades
Without twilight
It is time to let go
Of the comfort
Of summer
As the fading colors
Drain into the cold earth
November 9, 2025 at 12:52 AM
In the Next Life
When the flowers are done
And the grasses’ve gone to seed
The leaves have fallen
Or been shaken from their trees
When the wind is cold
And the owls ask
When the light fades
Without twilight
It is time to let go
Of the comfort
Of summer
As the fading colors
Drain into the cold earth
When the flowers are done
And the grasses’ve gone to seed
The leaves have fallen
Or been shaken from their trees
When the wind is cold
And the owls ask
When the light fades
Without twilight
It is time to let go
Of the comfort
Of summer
As the fading colors
Drain into the cold earth
Chicory in the rain… at the end of its day.
November 2, 2025 at 3:31 AM
Chicory in the rain… at the end of its day.
How did it get so late so soon?
Dr. Seuss
Dr. Seuss
November 1, 2025 at 12:15 AM
How did it get so late so soon?
Dr. Seuss
Dr. Seuss
Red Maple… full raging glory hallelujah…
October 31, 2025 at 1:33 AM
Red Maple… full raging glory hallelujah…
Perspective is an amazing art. Let’s try and keep things in perspective. Let’s be smart, help each other out, and we will get through all of this. In the history of the world, there has never been a storm that lasted. This too, shall pass.
Unknown
Unknown
October 29, 2025 at 11:59 AM
Perspective is an amazing art. Let’s try and keep things in perspective. Let’s be smart, help each other out, and we will get through all of this. In the history of the world, there has never been a storm that lasted. This too, shall pass.
Unknown
Unknown
But people have no idea what time is. They think it’s a line, spinning out from three seconds behind them, then vanishing just as fast into the three seconds of fog just ahead… cont in comments
October 27, 2025 at 1:07 AM
But people have no idea what time is. They think it’s a line, spinning out from three seconds behind them, then vanishing just as fast into the three seconds of fog just ahead… cont in comments
In the end
In the blue light of Winter’s dawn,
Autumn’s leaves cover the stony path.
The way is less obvious , but still clear.
The seasons and the days have not a care for us… and nothing… ever… has to go well.
In the blue light of overcast skies… Winter comes.
The only way out now is through.
In the blue light of Winter’s dawn,
Autumn’s leaves cover the stony path.
The way is less obvious , but still clear.
The seasons and the days have not a care for us… and nothing… ever… has to go well.
In the blue light of overcast skies… Winter comes.
The only way out now is through.
October 26, 2025 at 12:05 AM
In the end
In the blue light of Winter’s dawn,
Autumn’s leaves cover the stony path.
The way is less obvious , but still clear.
The seasons and the days have not a care for us… and nothing… ever… has to go well.
In the blue light of overcast skies… Winter comes.
The only way out now is through.
In the blue light of Winter’s dawn,
Autumn’s leaves cover the stony path.
The way is less obvious , but still clear.
The seasons and the days have not a care for us… and nothing… ever… has to go well.
In the blue light of overcast skies… Winter comes.
The only way out now is through.
When night falls
When night falls
And winter calls
when color drains away.
The blue light
and the long nights
Are respite from the glorious long days.
When night falls
And winter calls
when color drains away.
The blue light
and the long nights
Are respite from the glorious long days.
October 25, 2025 at 12:44 AM
When night falls
When night falls
And winter calls
when color drains away.
The blue light
and the long nights
Are respite from the glorious long days.
When night falls
And winter calls
when color drains away.
The blue light
and the long nights
Are respite from the glorious long days.
Language... has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone.
Paul Tillich
Paul Tillich
October 21, 2025 at 2:13 AM
Language... has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone.
Paul Tillich
Paul Tillich
Invisible. Perfectly still.
October 19, 2025 at 1:22 AM
Invisible. Perfectly still.
One of the longest continuously inhabited lands of North America, Canyon de Chelly preserves ruins of the indigenous tribes that live(d) in the area, from the Ancestral Puebloans to the Diné, encompassing three major canyons: de Chelly, del Muerto, & Monument. None of the land is federally owned.
October 13, 2025 at 1:07 PM
One of the longest continuously inhabited lands of North America, Canyon de Chelly preserves ruins of the indigenous tribes that live(d) in the area, from the Ancestral Puebloans to the Diné, encompassing three major canyons: de Chelly, del Muerto, & Monument. None of the land is federally owned.
The Rain
Sounds like a river
In the trees
Pouring through the leaves
That fall to the black
as dried blood asphalt
Decayed into oil
Because…
With us or without us
The rain.
Sounds like a river
In the trees
Pouring through the leaves
That fall to the black
as dried blood asphalt
Decayed into oil
Because…
With us or without us
The rain.
October 12, 2025 at 2:31 PM
The Rain
Sounds like a river
In the trees
Pouring through the leaves
That fall to the black
as dried blood asphalt
Decayed into oil
Because…
With us or without us
The rain.
Sounds like a river
In the trees
Pouring through the leaves
That fall to the black
as dried blood asphalt
Decayed into oil
Because…
With us or without us
The rain.
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard…
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Dylan
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Dylan
October 11, 2025 at 2:26 AM
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard…
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Dylan
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Dylan
Well the sun is surely sinking down
But the moon is slowly rising
So this old world must still
Be spinning round
And I still love you
And the deer on the hill…
But the moon is slowly rising
So this old world must still
Be spinning round
And I still love you
And the deer on the hill…
October 8, 2025 at 1:20 AM
Well the sun is surely sinking down
But the moon is slowly rising
So this old world must still
Be spinning round
And I still love you
And the deer on the hill…
But the moon is slowly rising
So this old world must still
Be spinning round
And I still love you
And the deer on the hill…
October 18th should be Day ONE of a GENERAL STRIKE… not one day of protest.
October 7, 2025 at 1:14 AM
October 18th should be Day ONE of a GENERAL STRIKE… not one day of protest.
Day after day
It never gets old
The same walk
In different light
Day after day
The scents and smells
And birds singing their edges
While the moon grows imperceptibly full or new
Everyday I learn how to say goodbye.
It never gets old
The same walk
In different light
Day after day
The scents and smells
And birds singing their edges
While the moon grows imperceptibly full or new
Everyday I learn how to say goodbye.
October 5, 2025 at 12:59 AM
Day after day
It never gets old
The same walk
In different light
Day after day
The scents and smells
And birds singing their edges
While the moon grows imperceptibly full or new
Everyday I learn how to say goodbye.
It never gets old
The same walk
In different light
Day after day
The scents and smells
And birds singing their edges
While the moon grows imperceptibly full or new
Everyday I learn how to say goodbye.
New York Fern in Pennsylvania.
At end of generation, a season, a life, an incarnation… fading into the future.
At end of generation, a season, a life, an incarnation… fading into the future.
September 28, 2025 at 3:39 PM
New York Fern in Pennsylvania.
At end of generation, a season, a life, an incarnation… fading into the future.
At end of generation, a season, a life, an incarnation… fading into the future.
Imagining a future.
A dream waiting for a breeze
To lift it into the ether
The fifth element.
A dream waiting for a breeze
To lift it into the ether
The fifth element.
September 26, 2025 at 1:06 AM
Imagining a future.
A dream waiting for a breeze
To lift it into the ether
The fifth element.
A dream waiting for a breeze
To lift it into the ether
The fifth element.
Equinox. Equidiem.
Autumn becomes the day and night.
Autumn becomes the day and night.
September 23, 2025 at 2:07 AM
Equinox. Equidiem.
Autumn becomes the day and night.
Autumn becomes the day and night.
Accidental Cornell Box
September 21, 2025 at 1:44 AM
Accidental Cornell Box