Last Flight of the Day — Image by kenne
“Don’t believe what your eyes
are telling you.
All they show is limitation.
Look with your understanding.
Find out what you already know
and you will see the way to fly.”
— from Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
Sea of Cortés Ebb Tide — Image by kenne
Sunrise Over the La Pinta Peninsula and Estuary area — Image by kenne
— kenne
Walking with a Friend — Image by kenne
This past spring my friend Tom and I had planned on going to Puerto Penasco, Mexico to spend a few days fishing. About a week before the trip, Tom had his sixth and last chemo treatment. He had gone through the previous treatments with few side-effects, but this one really made walking very difficult. We still made the trip knowing fishing was not likely. We still has a very good time.
One of the things we did was gone for walks along the beach. Previous posting have chronicled our trip, but I had forgotten that I had also taken some photos and video with my iPhone, which I share here.
Tom is in remission and is current fishing with his son in Wales.
kenne
Why, Arizona
Disregarding our “laced with fear” friends, Tom Markey and I drove Ajo Way (Arizona 86 Highway) out of Tucson to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico. The drive, most of which is through the Tohono O’odham Nation, is a very picturesque drive to Why, Arizona in the Sonoran desert.
On The Way To Why
The road is long,
a straight blacktop
across the land
of the Tohono O’odham.
Each passing mile
stirring up reflections
while pondering
each crucifix
with plastic flowers —
conquering my thoughts
drifting in and out
of my soul
wondering why,
why-not,
on the way
of leftover dreams.
— kenne
(The Sonoran desert has awaken my yearning for the spiritual allowing me to feel the mysterious anguish of all things.)
Tom and Pedro
We drove through the communities of Sells, Why and Lukeville before crossing the border about 80 miles north of Puerto Peñasco (Rocky Point). This sea-shore desert town is at the north end of the Gulf of California on the narrow strip of land that connects Baja California with the rest of Mexico.
Our plan was to have Pedro (the boat owner who has taken Tom fishing in the past) take us fishing in the Gulf. However, given the neuropathy Tom was still experiencing from his last chemo (#6) session, and after meeting with Pedro, we decided fishing would be left for another day.
Now Tom and I would have more time to walk the beach discussing poetry, philosophy and life stories.
Tom had brought alone the bilingual edition of Federico Garcia Lorca‘s Collected Poems. I don’t recall my having discussed Lorca with Tom, but he soon learned of my love for the man, his daemonic genius and ability to invoke the duende in his poetry.
“I want to summon up all the good will, all the purity of intention I have, because like all true artists I yearn for my poems to reach your hearts and cause the communication of love among you, forming the marvelous chain of spiritual solidarity that is the chief end to any work of art.” — from Lorca’s “Lecture,” Poet In New York
Until moving to the desert southwest, it was Lorca’s writings that served as a substitute for what was absent, since nothing is as it should be. I had a powerful desire to move from the there to the here and until I could be more in the present, planting roots in the spirituality of the border lands — invoking a deep trance-like emotion, his poetry satisfied the desire .
KenneTurner, Edward Hirsch and Dave Parsons
In his book, The Demon and The Angel, Edward Hirsch writes that duende (or the demon) and the angel are vital spirits of creative imagination, two figures for a power that dwells deep within us:
“Lorca’s myriad crystal tambourines wounding the new day are fresh poetic fact, an extrasensory event that strikes the reader or listener as something that has been creatively added to nature, something beyond natural or even metaphorical description, something visionary.”
As we drove the Tohono O’odham land, the land of the “Desert People,” so much around us began to invoke the presence of duende, a feeling I continue to try to express, but remains beyond description, while allowing a spiritual absolute — “toward which all artistic endeavor, especially music and literature, seems to tend.”
Tom Markey On The Beach At Mayan Palace
The poet is the medium
of Nature
who explains her greatness
by means of words.
The poet understands
all that is incomprehensible,
and things that hate each other
he calls friends.
He knows that all paths
are impossible
and thus he walks them
calmly in the night.
— Federico Garcia Lorca
kenne
Where The Desert Touches The Beach
“The duende does not come at all unless he sees that death is possible,” Lorca wrote in “Deep Song.”
Malagueña
Death
goes in and out
of the tavern.
Black horses
and sinister people
pass along the Sunken roads
of the guitar.
There’s an odor of slat
and female blood
in the feverish spikenard
along the shore.
Death
goes in and out,
out and in
of the tavern goes
death.
— Federico Garcia Lorca
The Shore of Puerto Peñasco, Mexico — Images by kenne
Brown Pelican Diving For Fish In The Gulf of California — Images by kenne
“It is not enough to understand the natural world; the point is to defend and
preserve it.” –Edward Abbey
Puerto Peñasco Beach — Image by kenne
I walk Puerto Peñasco beach
toward the morning sunrise.
Puddles of water abandoned by the tide
run together, channeling to the sea.
Gaining speed turning back to my eyes
sliding on the sea of stone.
Leaving behind reflections
channeling thoughts of storms past.
Above, the dragon birds fly shallow waters
searching for day treasures trembling below.
