I go to a secret place, alonem amd sit on a ledge above the canyon labrynth choked with brush. The numerous finger canyons remain unknown to most. In the summer, the heat soars into the triple digits. Winter is the best time venture in this area, because the Mojave Rattlers hibernate. It is rich with human prehistory. I listen for those that once lived here, and died here. I feel the warmth of the canyon. It is incredible. It starts to get late in the evening, the sun fades. The skeletal mysteries of the night begin to creep. I listen carefully for the noise of the unknown river, it is flowing tonight, I should maybe go to it.
Archives for January 2006
An Amazing world, this little earth
strange and magnificent.
We were headed to Toroweap
Thousands of ravens planed the sky
against orange and yellow clouds.
They followed us.
Timeless things await.
So, how do humans stew
over the most simple things,
such as daily life in a town?
I refuse to assimilate.
The raven windows the harsh beauty.
Arizona Strip, unmolested
enjoyed by few ranches, modern homesteads.
She still sings the old way.
Vivid dreams of Pinion ignite.
Simply colorful and intriging.
Virmillion Cliffs radiate.
Cold wind howls in the pines.
Smell fresh winter rain.
We passed under raging cloudbursts,
dark cloud shadows.
The road was thick mud-
in the arms of that isolated high desert.
Such brilliance creates laughter in my soul.
Those graceful ravens were soaring
beneath luminous clouds in evening mist.
Their silhouettes were abstract.
Keepers of the Spirit World.