Time for the Colorado river

No power
packing water coffee bait
long drive
Pierce Ferry roiling rapids
no camping no fishing
no parking no fires
no rangers
sleeping without a moon
under the stars
in sandstorm wind











It's all about leaving
running out of time
not knowing
was it dream time or
think time yet
fear of frailty
longing for water
and
the fluidity of joy
the adventure
the call of the
wild one
the one I was
I am

Flagstaf and Route 66

With a friend
in a silver spiffy car
cruising route 66
Kingman Hackberry
Truxton
where the apple pie was
when the two old ladies were
Peach Springs of the Hualapai
Seligman where I got breakfast
a couple of times
ate black eyed peas
on New Year's day in 1995
oh those icy roads
and now new to me Route 66
looping to Ashfork
stretches of walls in red lava rock
and the spacey silence
which will forever last                                      
then I 40 weaving to Williams
to Flag
old buildings old hippies
old books & new thoughts
and time in slower flow
autumn light
in peaceful glow

I met Jack in the Starrlight
and howling Allen
Collins and Simic
and De Bello Gallico printed by Plantin
in 1570 in Antwerp
where so soon I must return...

White Cliff Canyon

The first time

the first time I drove

through white cliff canyon

in tony’s cherry red and silver Z 220

then in my yellow Z 280

the Blazer red and white

the silver grey Huyandai

and several miscellaneous rental cars

I always saw this brown horse

head held high

beautiful and masculine

would say hello and wish him well

today in the rented Toyota Prius

the horse was no more

so him I cannot now show

my head hangs low

Walking in the desert

When time is slow

the company good

you walk and talk

then laying down

on the outside couch

I smell the time of desert sand

opening my eyes

the mass of pinpricked stars

in my skies of blues

I name them Billie Holiday, Miss Ella and Aretha

in my darkest hues

eyes closed the reflection

of the sun in orange yellow glow

then in these silences 

tweets of birds

a far plane and someone’s plan

a car, a truck, a trick

and slight of hand

then swimming

in the desert glass and singing sand

 

Bake sale on Old Miners Day

At nine the women have set up
their last stand
have baked
now sell or as I
eat and share and buy
dress up on a dare collect
for the merry go round
in this town
flags
for the vets in the cemetery
vaudeville play
community spirit
for a day
friendshp
& foreign wars
cow girls
bad boys
and floozies
bikers on harleys
(yes I know the sound well)
in a way
all soiled doves with
pretty old cars

Silver Hill's blues

walking through the wash
past the cemetery
with bouldered graves
I am awash
with words
weaving and waging
in my mind
the impermanence
of time
of timeless laughs
in greetings and parting
Silver Hill
solid and symbol
of what comes and goes
old cowboys old miners
old cars old Indian wars
and one day
I awash
with words

Desert words

walking without talking
watch without time
Spanish daggers and
and soft singing sand
the crunch of a footstep
and flapping of wings
rabbit brush and rosemary
through chirps and tweets
hearing silence
sticks strait and twisted
sleeping snakes
from childhood nightmares
watching out for slithering
a fleeting movement of bees
beings and fleeing
in the sparseness of tracks on soil
around a solitary plant
desert words of burning sand

Mojave dessert

 










Sunday morning breakfast

window rattling wind

clang banging doors

clattering tin roof in rain

sand-drifting crevasses

all dust my home

desert lilies’ white stain

a jittery fix for cows and deer

as for folks meth & beer

war stories on Sunday mornings

of fallen heroes

at the VFW breakfast boasting

of classified unmarked secret

warfare & all alive to tell it

to the stranger that I am

and in this desert storm

I hear the sand grain wail

Sunrise in the desert

It has almost been a week since I am home again in the desert. The last guest left the place in total disequilibrium but three days later my place almost looks like I like it to look. Thus I walk in the morning, watch the changing of the light as the sun climbs up from behind the mountains and changes the world. My friends seem truly glad to have me back for a while and seamlessly I am reintegrated into the small community. So one buys too many goodies at the all town yard sale: delicious sinfully rich pecan squares, light upside down pineapple cake and moist scrumptious banana bread... It was good that unexpected guests showed up so that I could share. The desert holds its own secrets, its special charm: from the tracks in the sand to the tiniest lizard darting away and gratefully I heard the coyotes yesterday afternoon. Now I know I am home again. Till now I saw: Gamble quail, a doe and her young one probably from this spring, jack rabbits and rabbits. I spoke with the cactus wren and saw 18 buzzards sail over Silver Hill. All the friendly dogs got petted and like a fool in honor of my friend Cese I danced alone in the local restaurant bar... Cese this one is for you.