Sabino Sunrise — Image by kenne
Dawn spills over the mountains
and the giants wake.
Their shadows stretch like old cowboys
after a long night.
No hurry.
No apology.
Just another day
outlasting us all.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Black & White Photography’ Category
Sabino Sunrise 2 comments
A Sonoran Morning Leave a comment
A Sonoran Morning — Image by kenne
Bright sunlight, black tower, white sky.
The blades carve the morning into pieces.
Somewhere a tank fills,
somewhere a man believes
he has mastered this land.
But the wind owns the rhythm,
and the desert keeps the final say.
— kenne
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Storm Clouds Over the Mountains 2 comments
Storm Clouds Over The Mountains — Image by kenne
Thunder far away
like a drum
warming up.
The desert waits—
patient as stone—
for the first drop
to strike the dust
and turn it
into hope.
— kenne
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Props, Not A Habit Leave a comment
On the Outer Banks of North Carolina
I keep the cigar lit
long enough to feel dangerous.
The whiskey glows
like a small sunset
I can hold.
But when the glass is empty
and the scene is still there,
I know—
it was always theater.
— kenne
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Witnessing Pain and Suffering 3 comments
Mother In Hospice (08/26/06)
Every photograph of suffering
proposes a contract:
you may look,
but you must not
turn away too quickly.
The stages of pain—
shock, endurance, vacancy—
are flattened into a single frame.
Time is arrested,
yet the body continues
beyond the border
of the image.
— kenne
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Words Cut The World Into Pieces 1 comment
Douglas Springs Trail — Image by kenne
We believe language explains reality,
yet it only sketches its outline.
Those who cling to the sketch
miss the miracle
standing before them.
— kenne
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Clouds Floating Over The Catalinas Leave a comment
Clouds Floating Over The Catalinas — Image by kenne
This is not drama but clarity:
mountain and cloud
locked in mutual definition,
each made real
by the other’s presence.
— kenne
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Low-water Crossing Leave a comment
One of Several Low-water Crossings in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Low-Water Bridges
There’s a kind of mischief in a low-water bridge.
Looks harmless when the creek’s quiet—
just a flat stretch of concrete
with dragonflies for sentries.
But you wait for the rain.
Then it turns trickster—
swells its belly,
covers the road,
and dares you to guess how deep.
I crossed one at sunrise once,
boots wet,
heart lighter
than it had any right to be.
The creek chuckled under its breath—
as if it knew a thousand fools before me
had tried to outsmart water,
most have failed to win.
— kenne
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Red Rock, Sedona Leave a comment
Black & White Image by kenne
Red Rock, Sedona
Below the cliffs,
an old tree lies—
roots exposed,
its body weathered gray
by seasons of wind and sun.
It seems less fallen
than resting,
a figure stretched beneath
the iron-red slope,
its limbs now gone.
And yet,
in the stillness,
the tree remains—
not defeated,
but folded back
into the silence
that bore it.
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Tom Turner — My Being Shrieks In Contradiction 1 comment
Tom Turner at Home in Seattle (In his notes, I came across a Kierkegaard quote, which I used to start the
following three-fragment poem, which reflects Tom’s philosophy.)
I
The whole of my being shrieks in contradiction.
To live is to suffer this clash of opposites—
to despair is to forget it.
II
I am the tension:
finite and infinite,
time and eternity.
If I dissolve it, I lose myself.
III
The contradiction is not my enemy—
it is my teacher.
Through it, I hear the Spirit whisper,
though I only answer in silence.
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Sunset Sky Leave a comment
Sunset Sky — Image by kenne
Photography patronizes.
Life moves—
blur, breath, forgetting.
A flash halts it,
fixes detail
into permanence—
which is its lie.
— kenne
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Clouds At Sunset Leave a comment
Clouds at Sunset — Image by kenne
white clouds unfolding
across the mountain’s dark skin—
light lingers, then slips
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Sonoran Negative 5 comments
Sonoran Sunset — Image by kenne
Sonoran Negative
Sun leans low,
half-caught in the cactus ribs—
its body broken
into light & shadow.
Above, clouds drift,
wisps scattered
like torn paper,
like smoke
from some far-off fire.
The desert does not move.
Stone listens.
Thorn remembers.
Even the horizon
waits.
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Carillo Trail In Black & White Leave a comment
Carrillo Trail In Back & White — Image by kenne
Carrillo Trail—
all bones and silence,
prickly pear flattened moons,
saguaro spines lifted
like darkened prayers.
Black and white holds it,
no color,
only the weight of shadow
and the thin edge
of light
cutting the desert open.
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This Old Saguaro Bends 1 comment
Saguaro Cactus Down By The Wash — Image by kenne
Gravity Prevails
This old saguaro bends,
arms too heavy for the trunk,
two pressed down to the ground
like crutches that keep it standing.
I know the feeling — knees gone,
back stiff in the mornings,
each step a small negotiation
with the earth below.
They say the cactus has lived
a hundred years, maybe two —
having seen men die younger,
and still it leans,
still it finds a way
to stay upright,
though gravity has claimed
every inch of it.
I used to think
I could resist—
work harder,
drink less,
walk farther,
but the cactus
tells me the truth:
sooner or later,
you bow down.
What matters
is how long you keep
your arms in the air,
catching light,
refusing to be silenced,
before the earth
pulls you all the way down.
— kenne
