Friends (Malcum & Kenne) — 08/28/13
Cutting in Each Other’s Words
(in the mode of Ken Nordine)
yeah—
we’re talking over each other again,
syncopated speech,
cross-talk jazz.
no dead crows here, man—
only squirrels,
laid out like soft punctuation
between the lines of the road.
the rhythm hums in static,
somewhere between truth and static,
between your thought
and mine—
cutting in,
cutting out,
like we both forgot
who’s holding the solo.
Late-Autumn Glow On Our Patio by kenne
Late-Autumn Glow
Rainbow with a Tucson Flare — Image by kenne
Rainbow with a Tucson Flare
It arrived like a verdict—
that rainbow—
arched over Tucson’s broken breath,
a spectrum laid upon a land
too used to drought
and good intentions gone brittle.
People came out with phones,
hungry for wonder,
proof that heaven still had
a marketing department.
The rain had barely quit falling,
and already
the city’s thirst began again—
for color,
for meaning,
for something to share.
Out by the wash,
the saguaros
kept their arms raised,
not in praise,
but interrogation.
Each thorn a question
no sermon could answer.
The rainbow lingered,
a flag without allegiance,
a bruise across the sky.
Then—
light slipped,
the air forgot its promise,
and Tucson returned
to its long work
of surviving beauty.
Cloudless Sulphur Butterfly on A Bird of Paradise — Image by kenne
Yellow butterfly,
its wings flicker
like thighs parting.
The flower trembles,
stamens sticky,
pollen dust falling,
sweet stink of heat.
Butterfly enters the flower,
slow as the insect’s tongue
sliding into nectar.
The air itself
quivers,
a humming body,
a wet mouth,
a raw opening.
Sunlight hard on the skin,
sweat dripping,
everything exposed.
The butterfly lifts—
nothing holy,
nothing profane,
just wings,
just hunger,
just flight.
Two Ravens in The Olive Tree — Image by kenne
The Raven Always Listens
Saguaro Cactus Down By The Wash — Image by kenne
Gravity Prevails
— kenne
Tanuri Ridge Sunset Computer Painting — Image by kenne
Evening comes slowly,
a patient hand across the desert sky.
Tanuri Ridge lifts its quiet spine
against the last of the light,
trees and shadows holding their place
as the horizon begins to burn.
The sun spills its final colors—
deep amber,
rose drifting into violet,
a breath of gold dissolving into silence.
Every hue lingers longer than the last,
as though the sky is unwilling to let go.
On the screen,
a digital brush gathers the moment,
stroke after stroke shaping what fades.
Pixels remember
what the eye can only witness once.
Here, in painted light,
the sunset does not vanish—
it stays suspended,
a meditation on time,
a stillness made visible,
a horizon that never fully darkens.
In the Patio shade after a long hike
Female Broad-billed Hummingbird at the Patio Feeder — Image by kenne
She arrives without sound,
only the shimmer of green
and the hum of still air.
Beak dips to red bloom,
sipping the sun’s sweet echo
drop by hidden drop.
For a moment, she hangs
between heartbeat and breeze—
then vanishes in a dart.
Pipevine Swallowtail on Common Lantana Blossom — Image by kenne
Midday heat shimmers—
a flash of velvet and blue
glides through desert light.
Drawn to lantana,
clustered in careless color,
the pipevine hovers.
Wings like falling dusk
sip from the bloom’s orange fire—
grace in full stillness.
Pipevine Swallowtail — Image by kenne
Blue wings in sunlight—
thistle opens to the day,
stillness full of flight.
Late Bloomers — Image by kenne
This potted cactus first bloomed in April, and now, in July, it graces the patio again.
Hummingbird at Feeder Silhouette — Image by kenne
Mexican Bird of Paradise (Caesalpinia pulcherrima)— Image by kenne
Blooming Mexican Bird of Paradise
Bottlebrush Blossoms In Front Yard — Image by kenne
