Small Obsession

If not for the sake of the journey
There is little to be found in the exercise
Of expanding the mind artistically

What would be most difficult
Becomes a perceived mountain to climb

And when it becomes apparent 
That perfection is a lie
We search for the next mountain to climb

What will we find next?

Are muses real?  They haunt, taunt and flaunt. Revealing my weaknesses like a storefront mannequin.
I don’t believe anything I just wrote. Do I? 

Near Collisions

It’s ironic
The nearest nature refuge
Has a freeway running through it

Humans in a hurry
Making background audio
For the freeway on the lake

Yes, I am obsessed with this project….fourteen years and running at this location. At some point, I might make all the work I can discover and will shift my focus.

The Enchanted Trail

Walking near dead grass, dust from the trail speaks a language of ages.
Sage and buckwheat shout the joy of summer’s calling.
This year, it will be short, but splendor will splash the air.

Bees frantically work, supporting the hive.
Descending into enchanted realms. Local universes.
Do they worry or fret? Counting flowers and days without rain.

Those things, considered “dead.”
Speak loudest of all.
About days gone by. Three weeks of glory for some.
Others, like the oak, masters of maternal care.
Spent years of reliable service. Never wavering. Strong, sure and fast.
Shading rabbit and coyote alike.
Their roots, were once alive with the harmonics of the beating heart called earth.
Now waiting patiently.
For rebirth.

Had to do a little impression work yesterday. Photos are edited for contrast. Russian 44-2 Modified Lens.


Shadows reveal
A certain energy
In random directions

How many times
Has this happened
How long
Has this gone on?

What else have I missed
In this world
Of fairies,
Sprites and pixies?

(2) photo manipulation – in the garden –
To plant a garden is the beginning of hope and the discipline of care.
Its creation, begets creation.