poetry, photography and reflections on life, aging, and dharma
In another reflection on where poems “come from,” sometimes one encounters a place so intense that you need to write about it. Problematically, when it’s a place as iconic as the bottom of the Grand Canyon, well, it’s almost impossible to do so in anything close to a fresh way. This poem and the accompanying image came from a photo trip down the Colorado in April of 2014.
Note- some poems are prompted by a word or a phrase, perhaps an experience. This was suggested by an impossibly beautiful tree deep at the head of the unfortunately named “Negro Bill Canyon” off of the Colorado Rive near Moab Utah. red stone by the time we reach the top of the canyon we’ve … Read more
on hearing the voices of children late at night from our riad deep within the Medinah…. last night last night, just as I closed the door to consciousness and stepped into the cool blue anteroom of sleep, I heard the voices of small children, rising, falling, echoing through the house, familiar voices … Read more
