Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Into the desert tomorrow,
the zone of silent immensity,
the naked shape of a planet,
the big circle of rock and sky,
where walls melt in the sun,
wind and stinging sand.

Into the desert tomorrow,
to vanishing points, to emerge
in imagination, quiet obsession,
prospectors still with pick in hand,
a shot of whiskey with those ghosts,
their wild burros still braying in the hills.

with sand in my teeth
i feel the call
wide expanse of stillness

shades of Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire
love all your desert poetry......you really paint some pictures

" a shot of whiskey with those ghosts
their wild burros still braying in the hills "

Yes Yes !!

mnaz wrote: ↑

July 3rd, 2021, 2:51 am

Into the desert tomorrow,
the zone of silent immensity,
the naked shape of a planet,
the big circle of rock and sky,.....

This time bring your GPS! And maybe a jerry can of gasoline!

Bon voyage - feed your soul

Yes yes, feed your being.

Had to get through Arizona,
the painted desert and fences,
Indian wars two centuries ago,
into sacred mountains, sacred rain,
down into the curvaceous desert,
a playful, deadly roundscape,
a desert with no fences.

Santa Fe was another desert lost.
Much bulldozing, too many fences.
My sibling returned my photo album,
all those shapes of rock as the sun arcs,
and how clouds puff to extend bluffs.

From Santa Fe back to Nevada.
Thin etchings stretch, no fences.
Shape and color of rock and sky.
I watch their collaborations.


Thanks judih, saw and sasha.

(I'll try to send some pictures...)

Yes... the words of one who experienced to desert again and again...

Well done, amigo. The lure of the endless skies and the deserts shrouding the rocks can be inescapable.

I keep coming back. Though it took so damn long this time. I can't believe I'm back in that world right now.

mnaz wrote: ↑

July 7th, 2021, 2:10 am

I keep coming back. Though it took so damn long this time. I can't believe I'm back in that world right now.

Be sure to take those photos. They are one-of-a-kind... and assure many memories of the land you love.

Back in Nevada, the realm,
massive basins and mountains,
each a cosmic entity, depth unknown.

Back in the big blank spot on a map,
free of light pollution at night, up north,
back east, no! it's the west, the desert,
where I first saw Milky Way on deep black,
where I first noticed rock not paved over.

No! this is the west! the holy desert!
where a man can strike out toward
horizons, pick in hand, and find gold;
a few women too, check the history.
But as I pass through lately, in the bars
and stores of rejuvenated ghost towns,
I hear all about the mines, about drilling,
about hills in desperate need of drillers.
We will drill the shit out of them hills.

Near the Oregon line.
Fences emerging again,
yet dust is still abundant.
Dust plumes on the move,
movement of distant humans
or just the desert wind?