Top Two Shelves In Our Study — Image by kenne
There are moments
down deep inside
when I scream —
Nobody gets in
to see the wizard
not nobody,
not no how.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Existential Moment’ Category
Top Two Shelves In Our Study Leave a comment
The Humble Back Of The Mountain Leave a comment
Aspen Trail on Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
Sun warms the lizard’s back
and the humble back of the mountain.
A raven croaks from the top of a thermal.
The valley oak above the barn,
dying a huge branch at a time,
stands in calm mortability, content
with the warm light that has fed its leaves,
the dark waters that have fed its roots,
its acorns that have fed the woodpeckers
for five hundred rainy seasons.
— Ursula K. Le Guin
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Foggy Morning Birthday On Tanuri Ridge 1 comment
Foggy Morning Birthday On Tanuri Ridge — Image by kenne
This sandgrain day in the bent bay’s grave
He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood eighty-second wind turned age;
Herons spire and spear.
— An age modification from Poem On His Birthday by Dylan Thomas
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A Tucson Sunset Leave a comment
A Tucson Sunset — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.
— David Hume
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Shadows In The Canyon Leave a comment
Shadows In The Canyon — Image by kenne
The sun hit the sides of the rock, creating shadows that swallowed the canyon trail as we hiked the canyon.
Looking left and right, we took a deep breath to appreciate where we are.
There are certain places that have the energetic power to serve as a teacher.
The canyons of the Santa Catalina Mountains are exactly that.
It’s a place that requires no words but can provide untold lessons.
It’s a place that will challenge your perspective without asking anything from you.
— kenne
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Touring HTOWN Wall Art Leave a comment
Kenne D., Kenne G., and Katelyn — Image by Janie
“What is life? – A novel. Who is the author? – Anonymous. We read haltingly, laugh, weep… and sleep.”
— Nikolai Karamzin
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A Desert Winter Sunset Leave a comment
A Desert Winter Sunset — Image by kenne
What is not to love
A desert winter sunset
Trees frame the picture.
— kenne
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Death On The Trail Leave a comment
The Cycle of Nature Moves On — Image by kenne
Nothing is really never dead if you look at it right.
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Kenne D. and Kenne G. Leave a comment
Kenne David and His Dad at 8th Wonder Brewery (December 27, 2022) Image by Janie
“All that is transitory is but a metaphor.”
―
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Christmas Abstract Leave a comment
Christmas Abstract Art by kenne
Christmas magic is silent.
You don’t hear it — you feel it.
You know it. You believe it.
— Kevin Alan Milne
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Holiday Travels 2 comments
Sunrise in West Texas East of Ft. Stockton On I-10 (December 23, 2022) — Image by kenne
Christmas in Texas
Twelve hundred miles from Tucson
First time in two years.
— kenne
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West Texas Travels At Sunrise 5 comments
Morning Sunrise on the road in West Texas (December 23, 2022) — Images by kenne
We spent the night in Ft. Stockton after leaving Tucson on December 22nd on our Holiday trip to Houston to spend time with family and friends.
— kenne
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Winter Solstice, 2022 Leave a comment
Winter solstice 2022 in Northern Hemisphere will be at 2:47 PM on Wednesday, December 21 MST — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The waxing of the sun, that
moment of solstice when
everything is still,
everything is silent —
an exotic moment of being
with darkness
giving birth to light
to which we celebrate
the relationship,
the moment of being
in the birthplace of life.
— kenne
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Wet Spider Web Leave a comment
Wet Spider Web By Spillway — Image by kenne
“I’d come to realize that all our troubles spring from our failure to use plain, clear-cut language.”
―
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A Fall Hike On Mt. Lemmon Leave a comment
A Fall Hike On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
A POEM IS A MOUNTAIN
a poem is a mountain
high above the city,
a place of contrasts,
filled with periods of
rain, snow and drought.
a poem is a mountain
filled with expressions of time,
filled with seasons
filled with life and death.
a poem is a mountain
growing old without pity
where God touches earth
bringing forth new life
changing earth’s colors.
a poem is a mountain
where rocks mark places,
silence bringing on sound,
directing the eye
to things not seen —
only then does the
mountain become a poem
— kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 