Late yesterday a lot of haze moved in the Tucson basin probably as a result of the Apple Fire burning in the Cherry Valley area east of San Bernadino and south of Big Bear Lake in southern California. This is a sunset image from our patio.
She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.
The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.
— from The Idea of Order at Key West by Wallace Stevens (Click Here To Read The Complete Poem)
I went to the [desert] because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
Living at the edge of the mountains
Watching the clouds push up the slopes
Tangling with the peeks, leaving behind
The milk of its firm, but gentle strokes
So stimulating is the foreplay
The setting sun directs its light
Reflecting off nature’s dramatic act
Fondling each to a new height
I watch, as a distant voyeur
Yet trying to sneak a feel
In the role of a mountain man
Without going against her will
In a moment, the thrill is gone
With the setting sun’s brightness
The clouds losing its excitement
Hastened by the shadows of darkness
Now alone at the mountain’s edge
I dream of stroking the night’s way
Bringing on the demons of darkness
Desiring only to stimulate the play