Passive Architect~
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Praying in the Desert
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Long shadows on the hollow rock
walking among monuments of the desert
the agave century plant blooms pads of self-rising yellow buds.
The Ave Maria of the mountains
field song swelling in the Chapel of the Holy Cross
the red risen church with low benches for praying
and viewing the psychedelic flowers of the desert.
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(50/50 Pictures by me or my husband)
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From the Colorado North, into Sedona
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We ride over a corner and the Ponderosa Pine
falls suddenly off to the left.
Entering the Oak Creek Canyon narrows
down to Sedona.
We walked a figure eight around the courthouse
then bell rock, a four mile entry into the city we’d call home for the next four nights.
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Open Sedona
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Sun iron details
around gated entrances
open Sedona
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A tall ponderosa pine forest
along the drive of oak creek canyon falls
music beats through the intimate canyon river
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From where we lodged we walked
around bell rock and the courthouse
with long shadows stepping on
hollow rock sounds
around the vortex.
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The agave blooms life size
lily pad blossoms
held skyward and toward
the simple and very significant structure
The Chapel of the Holy Cross
we see from a climb up
Cathedral Rock.
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Psychedelic colors of the desert blend
between sky blue, white purple, green
red-pink and lean down to the
Verde Valley, lush trees around Oak Creek
where small black birds open up a bright white
wing span.
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We wanted to stay along the Colorado River, so we followed the interstate from Las Vegas, south,
toward Bullhead City and found a river casino town to play and stay for the night.
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From Laughlin to Oatman at the start of Rt 66
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The sun just waking up
The shallow glow of misty morning dew was rising in
leopard print hills just out in the Mohave Desert
we have a breakfast of tacos held over from last night’s dinner.
A Mexican restaurant then,
the beer in the pump room of the Colorado Belle was good
among the creaking pipes and bustling waiters,
most people were watching sports or gambling.
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Old towns keep their western traditions against change
have shoot-outs at high noon each day,
cracked pots in the gallery.
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Hot means 120 degrees, but in June it’s only reaching 105.
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I had a renewed appreciation for water and lush landscape once I returned from the desert back to Ohio.
The shot at the end shows a little break in the desert with the Virgin River as it streams through Zion.
Here in Ohio
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Turn on the faucet and I get the fresh
mouth of spring open at my fingertips.
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Ohio Summer Storm
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At the ledge of the river
a storm swells in the distance
the lamplight flickers on and off with every gust
a tornado touches down 100 miles from here
makes a green sky.
The trees hold their bent positions
when everything releases.
{Snow Canyon}
Small World
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We walk like tourists
in our soft shoes
scuffing the earth
with or eyes
we listen to colors
watch rainbows and forests
blow over with the storm
of a flickering candle.
Phil and I especially enjoyed speaking to Sheri at the Split Rock Gallery who introduced us to beautiful art, high end architecture and Snow Canyon.
{Snow Canyon}
American Earth Rim
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Leopard print hills are just
out in the Mohave desert
south and east of Las Vegas.
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To the north of The Rim
sits St. George among steeples
of church and mountain.
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Many times a year eighteen
galleries open to the night
to be closed by curfew.
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Architects build on black lava rock
just beneath the peaking faces
of snow canyon
the quilted hills
diminish a climbing figure and crawl
slowly back into a covered earth.
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Just miles away from the spotted hills
stained south of The Rim.
First, a few last shots of Bryce National Park showing the sand canyons we walked through.
{An observation at first glance of the Grand Canyon from the North Rim.}
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Over the Grand Canyon
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Are you wondering above the smog
over the canyon
the bright sky that hugs
low humid afternoons
about the sound of a gunshot
wound tumbling, echoing off
ancient carvings, rocks that fall.
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The coveted beauty turned
a shoulder to our societies’
ignored warning
the warmest summer on record
for America cried
the glistening drops of honeysuckle
blooming a month too early.
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A shadow glow of misty morning dew
rising foot in front of foot step wide
paths with wind sounds river melodic
like living next to an ocean, but here
in the desert the shifting of low wheat tassels
blow together, wind making an offering
to the hot hot sun.
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Down Kaibab on the North Rim
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A rock fell, but we didn’t see the sound
Of gunshots rumbling, echoing off ancient carvings
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The same source happened by helicopter
The twirling blades chopping louder and louder
And finally we saw, miles away, a small white bubble.
Hoo Doo’s
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Chess pawn pieces
ornaments to the garden
left to freeze
in an eruption of the landscape
exposed to a dry cobalt sky.
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The sand residue glistens
fills up the prongs of the aloe plant
starves the tree roots of stable ground
leaving in the remains
Queen Elizabeth on her thrown
wallstreet and a lazy alligator
all in bad luck.
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The Face of the Desert
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Beneath the eyebrow of a rock crag
X’s cross the sky
fresh green cubes of hay dot fields in thirst
and above that
the pink cliffs with their deep faces.
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East of Zion, at the Sevier River
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Green top hair
white cliffs
just east of Zion.
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Bubbling slow growth spouts
spread like pox over the landscape
until small knuckles pull up from the green meadow to expose the natural clay walls
sculpted low berms of the Sevier River.
