A Spring Bouquet — Image by kenne
The same wildflowers, a different spring.
What matters is that it is spring.
What matters is that they return each spring.
What matters is each spring will be different.
What matters most is that the same wildflowers
always return with each different spring.
— kenne
I thought about you, girlfriend
I thought about today
Taking a big breath.
I thought about tomorrow
Exceeding my grasp.
I thought about time
Wondering about timeless.
I thought about life
Asking the question.
I thought about people
Knowing not what I see.
I thought about what is
Wondering why?
I thought about ideals
Seeking what should be.
I thought about art
Becoming aware.
I thought about love
Touching the feeling.
I thought about Joy
Feeling love inside.
I thought about you,
Walking with long shadows.
I thought about tomorrow
Sharing your path.
— kenne
Desert Rosemallow (Hibiscus coulteri) — Image by kenne
We spent the day
driving in the rain
from Houston to Ft. Stockton,
before that
five days of no sun.
This posting
is in preparation
for our return to
the Sonoran Desert
and springtime.
— kenne
Yarrow Wildflower (Achillea Millefolium) on Mt. Lemmon — Images by kenne
— kenne
Del Sol Arches — HDR Image by kenne
— kenne
Gila Monster — Image by kenne
Sabino Canyon Esperero Trail — Panorama by kenne
Wild Cotton Seed Pods Art by kenne
Black Swallowtail Photo Essay– Signs of Spring by kenne (Tohono Chul, Tucson AZ, February 24, 2018)
Computer Art by kenne
Hummmmm
I can see you looking at me
Behind those dark sunglasses
Sending a sign,” I’m ready.”
My doctor says no, not until after
A neurological consultation for
having experienced a possible TIA.
Hummmmm
— kenne
Arizona Fleabane — Images by kenne
Grunge Art by kenne
Human Misery
The clock that strikes five before the sun –
A dark horror grips lonely people,
In the evening-garden bleak trees swish,
The dead one’s countenance stirs at the window.
Perhaps this hour stands still.
Before dull eyes blue images flutter
To the rhythm of the ships, which rock in the river.
At the wharf a row of nuns blows by.
Pale and blind girls play in the hazel bush,
Like lovers, who embrace in sleep.
Perhaps flies sing around a carcass there,
Perhaps also a child weeps in the mother’s lap.
From hands asters sink blue and red,
The youth’s mouth slips away strange and wise;
And eyelids flutter fear-confused and quiet;
Through fevered blackness a scent of bread blows.
It seems one also hears horrible screaming;
Bones shimmer through decayed walls.
An evil heart laughs loudly in beautiful rooms;
A dog runs past a dreamer.
An empty coffin gets lost in the darkness.
A room wants to light up palely for the murderer,
Meanwhile, lanterns are smashed in the night’s storm.
Laurel adorns the noble one’s white temple.
— Georg Trakl
California Poppies — Grunge Art by kenne
— Ansel Adams
“A Zen Moment” — Computer Painting by kenne
— kenne
“Succulents Afire” — Abstract Art by kenne
— Philip Roth
