Years Since The Fire (alligator juniper) — Image by kenne
Years since the fire
Standing as a test of time —
Juniper power.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘Santa Catalina Mountains’ Tag
Years Since The Fire 1 comment
Years since the fire
The Truth Leave a comment
Rose Lake, Santa Catalina Mountains — Digital Art by kenne
One imagines him as a prodigious morning walker
And a lonely metaphysician pausing in the park,
A rose rabbi, a sturdy man on a wide path
Dreaming of a sky washed clean by doubt.
One pictures him under the umbrella
Pines and buttonwoods on the way to work,
Imagination’s largest thinker conjuring up
Songs of human radiance twanging in the mist.
One thinks of him by the lake in a rain:
Mirrors on mirrors mirroring the emptiness.
— from At the Grave of Wallace Stevens by Edward Hirsch
Looking North Atop Mt. Lemmon Leave a comment
Looking North Atop Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
There’s a place on Mt. Lemmon
where peace and wisdom lies
along the trails under towering trees
one can find silent knowledge
and contemplate the void in its
stillness as life goes about changing.
— kenne
Yellow-eyed Junco 2 comments
Yellow-eyed Junco — Image by kenne
A Minor Bird by Robert Frost
I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
— Robert Frost
Mariposa Lily Digital Art Leave a comment
Mariposa Lily Digital Art by kenne
“The artist’s world is limitless.
It can be found anywhere, far from
where he lives or a few feet away.
It is always on his doorstep.”
– Paul Strand
At The End Of The Day Leave a comment
At the End of the Day — Image by kenne
19
Once at Cold Mountain, troubles cease —
No more tangled, hung-up mind.
I idly scribble poems on the rock cliff,
Taking whatever comes, like a drifting boat.
— Gary Snyder
Dead at Daybreak Leave a comment
“Age Has Character” — Images by kenne
Dead at Daybreak
Night of four moons
and a single tree
with a single shadow
and a single bird.
On my flesh, I seek the
imprint of your lips.
The jet of spray kisses the wind
without even touching it.
I bear the “No” you handed me
in the palm, if my hand
like a wax lemon
nearly white.
Night of four moons
and a single tree.
On the point of a needle
stands my love — whirling round!
— Federico Garcia Lorca
