Monday, April 28, 2008

Market gig


Sing for the tomatoes. Sing for the sun hiding around the corner. Sing for the smiling baby boy dancing with no shoes on. Sing for this morning, the only morning.

Friday, April 25, 2008

The light that reaches everywhere

Views of Zion.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

After the night's rain

Click on images to view larger. Better that way.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Prima donna vera


Two days ago it was eighty degrees. Today it snowed.

Spring's coming in, wrapped in chintz and ribbons, weaving her
way, all hiccups and ruffles, green buds in her hair.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Canyon stories

There are stories this land writes in stone, patterns
of wind on rock, water on sand. There's calligraphy in
a coyote's lope down the draw, a vulture's wings
spread against relentless blue.

In the near blackness of midnight,
wind roars down canyon like a flash flood,
blurring everything, raining sand onto upturned
faces, making the stars invisible.

A tumbleweed appears like a silent animal,
suddenly looming out of the darkness of
the creek bed and, just as quickly, gone.

All night, sand continues to scour the tent,
until the air is stilled by the dawn
under the watchful eyes of the last stars.

A canyon wren's song, like drops
of water, falls note by note from the cliff face.

Monday, April 14, 2008


The color of these stones is inconstant as the sky.
While the day's shadows travel their surfaces, their hues shift
like a modulating chord. Dust, water, air, light: canyon suite.

Friday, April 11, 2008



I'm not fast as wind but I can blur. My
teeth are not sharp like coyote yips or midnight stars.
If I stop will you see me as a stone?

Thursday, April 10, 2008



Breathless, squinting. The dry, crunchy, vastness glares like a snowfield.
Constant, vicious wind tries to push us over, throws salt
in our eyes, peppers our cheeks with miniscule stinging pellets.

Click on image for a larger view.