All One, revolving #4

                       All One, revolving #4

  

• 
  

The western note book

I get hiking and 

off I went

I got up there

hiking back the flat top

It was getting dark

Kind of froze--

Working back

Fast as I could

tripping 

in strewn stones

I kept looking east 

A rhythm over

I’m chanting-- I’m on the path

I’m on the path

My God!

The moon 

full rising--

Pink Sky Blue

The snowy mountains

32.

I’m on the path

I luckily got to the stony cliff 

To crawl down at Dusk, 

And I’m letting my self down 

When I see this 

This petroglyph sign 

Pecked into the rock

A circle with a line 

Same east west direction

The path, I’m on--

I’m looking up 

into the western sky--

Blazing angels wing 

Over the Pedernal-- 

Grandfather mountain

I got down, 

A blind man with a stick 

Picking through bones

Moon castings 

shadows over the dim land

Down in the shadows of the river bed

Falling over a cow’s pelvis-- 

Gleaming 

Even in the dark, 

I’m painting it still

33.

carrying it along

I remembered the Mountain Lion and--

I go with no choice

Onto the highway

Lights of cars-- 

dark highway

On the way home

Walking stick and 

Bone on a rope

Indian Memory

2000 looming--

The saw-like Magpie sound

Woke me, Pinon Jays-- 

flying in flocks

Sacred to profane, falling

• 
  

waiting

Beautiful painting next to that 

MOUNTAIN

34.

that dog’s name is Peppers

My adopted companion

She sits-- 

staring, 

she doesn’t need me

Exaggerated self

Relating to any movement-- 

out here

There’s an old Indian circle

it’s been here a long time

The wind blows hard 

Enough to unearth shards

Of Anazazi bowls

There facing east

the dog out there

Orion tumbles

Like the gods before.

It rained and was 

gray for a week--

After hardly a gray day. 

Clouds pile up-- 

mountains snowing

But then, it lifting-- and Spring! 

Turned directly 

Into Summer!

• 
  

Flaming birds, flaming birds

Tiresome to talk of how 

we’ve purchased it

Their feet are on fire 

Falling

No One Idea

The sparrows--

The sun slants 

through the tall buildings

men, beetling down long alleys

39.

I’m out walking

The shards

the blue hills

The silent wind

Purple tragedy, 

red square fades to white 

On the wall

A form equal to the listing of reality

Lost

Black and white

Depth into presence

Tragedy

We make Art, 

not to be able to-- 

Represent

We go on never able

We just go on

Arranging, ordering, something 

beautiful 

Remembering--

So this beauty?

Towering monoliths to 

scattered wisp

Woke to sun

Death-- death, sounded like--

40.

bells arriving

Sheep, goats

Black sheep hops over 

The black brush

Dry grass

Mournful bells

silent sucking space

Tawaquaptewa-- 

Sun sitting in the sky

Airplane flying-- way low?

The great star drooped

Tearful night

Surrounding cloud

these heart shaped leaves

A sprig I break

What picture 

shall I hang?

The thought before

this knowledge of reality

Black and white shards.

Red, yellow, and blue 

out lined in black

Coming, coming like the Sun

Like Reality, reality--

Death

• 
  

45.

Back along the ridge line

Down into the wash

A handful of feathers

I’m down there looking 

On my hands and knees, realizing 

I’m surrounded by Lion’s tracks

These feathers 

had been in a Lion’s mouth

Peppers out there staring

Looking old, faded

Future keeps coming at me

Shiny and clear

Got to keep on

Orion tumbling on the 

eastern horizon

Dipper down low

Milky way extending --

Coyotes yapping--

Anxious dog

the paintings are 

the only real thing,

I said.

The reality stacked in the corner

Making one thing

All together-- 

46.

One thing

Fragmented by, meetings in airports

Studio far away

Removing the whole 

Of Import-- far away

That scorpion climbed the wall

I saw a snake slither across the brick floor

Walls of mud

I always felt the house was in the way 

Of the landscape

The bed beside the windows

Stars turning

The sky grew light and 

I’d run to the other side 

Of the house to watch 

the mountain lighten

Down the driveway

The paper was waiting

A car passing, sometimes honked

The dog waited, waiting

I decorated my room 

• 
  

Revolving vision

Stars cranked around

Waking up to see it all changed

48.

Reality receding

Dying into-- changing

Hauling back 

with black line

Lasso and tie it down

To edge

Nail it down

to gray thought

Excavating

Image to mine.

He’s fashion POP 

and smarts like hell!

That virile poet 

As Lion Sun

Lost innocence

Evolving old men

Floating past

Differing juxtaposition

ALERT TO ANYTHING MOVING

What lurks beneath

• 
  

SUN GOES UP

SUN COMES-- 

DOWN

That cartoon doodle

Being the form

50.

Making that surrogate,

Going around together ,

One-- one-- one--

turning,

Paintings have their own minds.

I follow 

Cerulean hills

This morning

Green black bush

Purplish-- 

red sky

Minor key

Dot to dot

Then this wriggle,

Swerve!