Poetry is read by the lovers of poetry and heard by some move they coax to the cafe or the district library for a bifocal reading. Lovers of poetry may total a million people on the whole planet. Fewer than the players of skat.
“I’ll Take My Spring On the Rocks” (Sabino Creek near the dam.) — Image by kenne
“When you sit in silence long enough,
you learn that silence has a motion. It glides over you without shape or form,
exactly like water. Its color is silver. And silence has a sound you hear
only after hours of wading inside it. The sound is soft,
like flute notes rising up,
like the words of glass speaking. Then there comes a point
when you must shatter
the blindness of its words,
the blindness of its light.”
“Spring On The Rocks” (Sabino Creek near the dam.) — Image by kenne
“When you sit in silence long enough, you learn that silence has a motion. It glides over you without shape or form, exactly like water. Its color is silver. And silence has a sound you hear only after hours of wading inside it. The sound is soft, like flute notes rising up, like the words of glass speaking. Then there comes a point when you must shatter the blindness of its words,
the blindness of its light.”
Sunrise at Sabino Canyon Recreation Area Dam — Image by kenne
View of Sabino Canyon Dam Area — Image by kenne
Sabino Dam, January 2020 — Image by kenne
Mallard Duck in the Water Above the Sabino Dam — Image by kenne
“The Town Cryer” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“I’ll Take My Spring On the Rocks” (Sabino Creek near the dam.) — Image by kenne
“Spring On The Rocks” (Sabino Creek near the dam.) — Image by kenne
Reflections — Image by kenne
