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Cottonwood Grandpa

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There is an old cottonwood, burned by lightning; it has survived longer then most. It’s stands by a muddy river that passes through sedimentary gorges, red plateaus. The river and wind have been moving long before humans and monsters. The landscape is not untouched, because people have been using it for eons. Some of us may know where we originate, and there are many tales of how we came to be. I think of the gnarly cottonwood and call it grandpa. It is sad to see his branches torn… Still though, he is very beautiful standing by the red river. …

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The Man in Black

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How I remember the good ‘ol times: “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash,” As I dwell on the sorrows of humanity and the world, the desert, the animals, the wandering clouds, the sun blazing just before dark, I think of the salad days. Before those days, the old west, and the times that have long sailed into memory. Johnny Cash is a hero and he plays his spirited tunes down the old dirt road we go, the folk songs of our land. The lesser known songs pass into furthest trenches of my mind. There was no self-righteousness in Mr. Cash, especially when …

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1987 Suzuki Samurai

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I’ve done two crazy things in one month. I traded a DSLR while bartering for a 4×4 and sold my notebook for off-road tires. So it’s back to the library when I need to update. For a desert dweller it is justified. The 1987 Suzuki Samurai is a great 4×4. My cousin says it goes places that his Jeep cannot because it’s compact. It ain’t no speed demon, it tops about 65 miles an hour, 70 on a lucky day. It does have a new engine. There are places that I have visited that were once inaccessible, I had missed out on …

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Deep in the Precambrian

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Bottomless mountains rise above the Virgin River Gorge It is a strange day on top of Sullivan Canyon. Thick white crystalline ledges dive into precambrian hell. Pegmatite yields pomegranate beads of rich garnet. Teethy shadows cling to desert oak with fingernails. Manzanita grows exceptionally thick in twisty stands, hard to push my sweaty body through. Winged phantoms fear not my approach. From the bowels something growls with enchantment. Somewhere among the whispering Juniper forests hides a tunnel leading to another place, a vortex that radiates with unknown passions. I turn on the headlamp, looking for treasure, cities full of creatures …

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Something at Indian Peak

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Whatever it was it was moving through the trees in our direction. All the small pinion saplings had been stripped from their tips. Maybe this is what engaged our imaginations? But the sound of snapping dead wood and breaking branches grew steadily. Perhaps it was coming from the limestone caves on the mountain above? The first time my cousin heard the comotion he came stumbling over the top of the hill asking me if I had heard it. Then we both froze in silence and I shouted in the direction of the noise. Both of us bolted back down to the Jeep in the wash below the hill. We didn;t hesitate. This was somewhere near …

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One Foot Man

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Things should be said, whether or not people choose to believe them. I should quit keeping certain things so secret and open up a bit as to why I am going into the wilderness so much. Out there, certain mysteries have been revealed. the fact is this, I have witnessed a lot of unbelievable things that I fear to tell people because they might not believe. One of these stories involves the one foot man that lives in the Great Basin of Southern Utah. One night I was telling a story of the one foot man to some of my …

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The Unknown River

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I go to a secret place, alonem amd sit on a ledge above the canyon labrynth choked with brush. The numerous finger canyons remain unknown to most. In the summer, the heat soars into the triple digits. Winter is the best time venture in this area, because the Mojave Rattlers hibernate. It is rich with human prehistory. I listen for those that once lived here, and died here. I feel the warmth of the canyon. It is incredible. It starts to get late in the evening, the sun fades. The skeletal mysteries of the night begin to creep. I listen carefully for the noise of the …

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Ravens on the Arizona Strip

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An Amazing world, this little earth strange and magnificent. We were headed to Toroweap Thousands of ravens planed the sky against orange and yellow clouds. They followed us. Timeless things await. So, how do humans stew over the most simple things, such as daily life in a town? I refuse to assimilate. The raven windows the harsh beauty. Arizona Strip, unmolested enjoyed by few ranches, modern homesteads. She still sings the old way. Vivid dreams of Pinion ignite. Simply colorful and intriging. Virmillion Cliffs radiate. Cold wind howls in the pines. Smell fresh winter rain. We passed under raging cloudbursts, …

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The Christmas Dream

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Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, this is one of the rare Christmas poems that I wrote for the season. I wish everybody a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! The Christmas Dream Tonight it snowed, but the fire danced. The lights twinkled on the little spruce tree. The children sang to their grandmother, but now they sleep in their cozy beds. The fire keeps the cabin warm in winter’s deep. The soft bells are jingling in her mind. We go back in time, when Jesus was born. It was a miracle beneath the starry skies of Bethlehem. Across …

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January is Approaching

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In January, the sun barely melts the frost in the morning. The high reaches no more then forty degrees Fahrenheit. The clouds snuggle closer to the earth, and the sun sets further towards the Southwest. Every exhalation is a warm visible steam jetting from the nostrils of creatures able to survive the hostility of the frigid desert. At night, under the moon, groups of Mule Deer bundle together and bed down beneath cottonwoods, near the farm communities. Driving steadily at night, on a frontage road, you drive no faster then thirty to avoid bouncing a buck. Locals go spotlighting in …

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The Desert Calls

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His pillow is an ancient cottonwood. Wind pushes gigantic branches. He loves the twisted tree. His bare feet sift cold yellow sand. The clumps of grass push against his back. The ground is wet and moist from a previous storm. The boy sleeps to the constant summer wind and the singing creek near the reeds.. Just around the corner, big plateaus devour the landscape. He dreams of them. The cottonwood knows and sees everything. Listen to the wind as it travels through the canyons. He’s standing on the top of a butte looking out across Canyon Country. In the distance …

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My Job is Over

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Bad news. It turns out that I won’t be working at the gift shop. The owner hires me, only to have second thoughts and tells me that he can’t afford to hire another employee. So tonight I was a little depressed feeling bad, because I was actually anticipating this job and would’ve enjoyed it. Cookies like me are tough, they never give up! Life is unpredictable. Working there can remain a good memory, but I am not going to let it sadden me any further. The passed week I’ve been missing Flagstaff. Ed Little’s photos of the Peaks are a …

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Travelers

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Going back in time, the soft clouds rewind quickly to those passed centuries. The sky is glowing and the power is sweet. Here they come, people moving across the land, carrying their babes, moving to lower ground for the winter. The sky is always turquoise blue, and the junipers grow wild. They travel passed the red cliffs and head into the Black Ridge country on their way to the land of the whipping sands. Soft and vivid dream quiet like the groves of cottonwood grandpas swaying in the steady wind. The wind pushes the billowing clouds through traveling sky. Locusts …

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Went South Last Night

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I went onto the Arizona Strip last night about thirty miles south of Saint George. I am going to go to Toroweap again and visit that grand place! It?s the 60-90 miles of dirt road that hinders most people from going there. The more time I spend in that country, the more I crave a BLM job there. Last night, I was shooting some photos, and had jump from one location to another so quickly, it almost gave me whip lash! The lighting was constantly changing. I would rush to my car, peel out, and fly to another location, creating …

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A Beautiful Reminder

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There is too much beauty in life to take for granted. So when life seems heavy, stop for a moment to listen to the wind sifting through the pines, or the clouds rolling and tumbling in the sky. Earth is a peaceful sphere. The universe that she travels through is endless. Trillions of unknown things abide in space and we barely know a few. Be glad that the Creator has given us this dwelling place, with warm sunshine to fall upon us each day. The sky above us is turquoise blue, and that is something to be thankful for. The …

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An End to the Occupation

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In my waking life, I move about like everybody else. I hear the constant sounds of reality, but my mind is somewhere else. My hopes are on a higher plane, like the lonesome eagle gliding on the wind. Feeling very content, I can safely say that the world needs a change. With all the loud things that plug up everyday life, severe isolation tends to be very enticing to me. My dreams cannot compete with the current trends of this society. I am here, but I am not really here. It is more like I am praying for the current …

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Just a Ramble

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I’m just happy today, for no real particular reason? Maybe things are changing here in the desert. There was still a cricket singing this morning, in November. This I could get used to, being at 2000 feet above sea level, in an ocean of red sandstone. Saint George has got the worst traffic in the state, but it is not a bad little community. For work, I’ve been taking tickets at all the basketball games over at the Burns Arena. I’ll be doing this unless I get the job at the gift shop. Last night, I was feeling restless. I …

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Nate the Lonesome Critter

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I may be working in a tourist trap of a turquoise outlet pretty soon. The big cheese came closer to hiring me today. It is a decent atmosphere to work in. Chimes ring, native flute music plays in the background, and the roaring traffic of Saint George looms outside. I’m talking to the manager, just getting to know him one on one. I spoke with one of the fellow employees too. It turns out that she likes to rock-hound a lot. Neat! Anyways, I’ll see what happens. This will definitely beat the Lowe’s job I had before, where they were …

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Unplugging My Life

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I am getting burned out on college life, though it is something I don’t mind. Knowing that my mom and dad read this blog, I am going to be careful about what I say. That is why I have an anonymous blog. I love my parents, but at the same time, I like some privacy. I need a change. Maybe I’ll do some sheep herding this summer? When lambing season starts next spring, I may call the Burtons in Parowan and ask for some work… THINGS ARE MUNDANE, so I’m looking for interesting things to do. I’m looking for work …

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The Constant Rain

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The rain pelts the ground I hear the drum beat, the rattles I see the landscape drinking the moisture I hear the birds singing The billowing clouds are beautiful Thunder shakes the land the constant rain purifies An old man lets the rain soak his frail body Warm summer freshness Delightful!

Ghost Stranger

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The horned creature draws near His eyes sockets are filled with dust. Something dashes through through the trees, laughing The visitor has come. The painted female and male are holding hands. The thunderbird dances. The images are animating. The pinions grow exceptionally thick. The dead are visible from other dimensions. The crickets chant. Fearless whispers draw near. Harrowing creatures wallow close. I hear the creek sifting the ancient rocks. The horned one is looking at me. Dust filled eye sockets.

Edge of Silence

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Little painted creatures crawl down dark canyon walls. The creek is trickling. Crickets hum. The tower of stars ignite. Deep twinkling universe erases time, and fills empty space with the ages. Long ago, little people came here, passed through here, and their spirit remains. Images dance across the stone panels. The visions are possessive, intoxicating. At night, during sleep paranormal entities speak of long ago. I dream of a Pinion skeleton against hard turquoise sky… …I think of a lone coyote shrouded by night, cut off from the pack. I’m glaring into the campfire, thinking that he may come into …

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Sudden Changes

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It felt like summer again, here in Saint George. Last night it was real mild. I’m heading north this weekend to spend some time with my grandparents. Last night I drove west of Saint George, into Nevada again, just to go see some Joshua Trees out there. Man is it an amazing lost world. There is so much beauty, The highway cuts through the desert, but it still feels primordials. At home last night, I did some writing on my computer, and ate Pinion Nuts while enjoying the late night warmth. It is the middle of October and feels like …

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Walls of Existence

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When I speak of tearing down the walls of existence, I mean in a peaceful and non-violent way. An individual can also tear down the walls of their own Existence. On the large scale, I want to change the culture that surrounds me; either that, or abandon it entirely. I believe what Ghandi said, that no conflict could be justified, even if it was for a good cause. So my passionate cause would have to be a peaceful revolution. I just don’t understand why some have the desire to inflict harm on others? And how some countries have an arrogant …

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The Winter Moon

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I can feel the winter snows getting ready to visit the high desert. I’m down at 2000 feet so I don’t have worry. Winter’s not a bad time to move about though. There’s nothing better then hiking through fresh snow under a full moon. I remember doing that a few years ago up on the mountain, over by Duck Creek. It was frigid, but beautiful. The forest was blanketed with dense white that glowed silver. Other then that, I am expecting to see some magnificent thunder storms invade the red rock canyons. They usually come until mid November. That might …

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Ghost Piano

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I can smell the rotting wood floor, warped by a hundred years. The roof of the skeleton is still up, but a whole corner of the building is caved in. Bats hang in the corners, mice scurry underneath. I lift up some rusty sheet metal and a kangaroo rat darts blindly into the desert. The wind beats the old building and it creaks and groans with pain. A tumble weed runs through the center of town. There?s no humans here, no cars, but mine. Off in the distance bone colored mountains dance on the surface. There are no clouds in …

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Absolute Silence

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There was an old man up there on the mountains near New Harmony. He had a long white beard, was missing a few teeth, but had the deepest gaze of any human being. He wouldn?t say a word, but he would wave, smile, and continue on in his routine. He lived in a parked trailer near the edge of a creek, and drove around in an old Chevy caked in mud. I never had the courage to go visit him, but he soon disappeared and I never saw him again. That canyon is now empty and quiet. When I go …

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Edward Abbey

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Another person to educate your self about is Edward Abbey, a father to the Environmental Movement. I’ve read his books Desert Solitaire, and The Monkey Wrench Gang. Both demonstrate Edward’s intense love for the wilderness, but they also expose his racism towards Indigenous People, and his view that the wilderness was “untouched.” After reading these two books though, I feel that Cactus Ed was more then just some rugged individualist. They say he offended everybody, but the truth is, there’s no excuse for racism, bigotry, or intolerance. To the oppressive and colonial powers, and to Manifest Destiny, it sure must …

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Pristine Wilderness

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Tonight’s post is a little off on a tangent. But it deals with the false notion of Pristine Wilderness. First of all, educate yourself about who Michael Fatali is, and what he supposedly did in “vandalizing” the Delicate Arch here in Utah. I posted the following response on a thread over at http://photo.net/ – Think of this… The American Government desecrated Glen Canyon when they created Lake Powell. When they damned the Colorado river, in many TRUE aspects, they were “vandalizing” the canyon… Sorry people, I just don’t believe in a pristine wilderness. Michael Fatali made a mistake, but the …

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Above Navajo Lake

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The gnarly bristlecone stands mighty on the rocky ledge beneath tremendous, galactic clouds. The clouds are merging into a great mother ship descending upon the high country. Beneath the ridge grow vast isolated groves of Aspen, patched with sprawling open meadows; the rest of the landscape is covered in old timber, and within certain areas, has been attacked by the bark beetle. If you visit places like Brian Head, twenty miles east, it looks like a cemetary of trees. Down the backside of this ridge, nestled in a small mountain valley is the natural forming, Navajo Lake. It?s a slender, …

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