A Dream of Predators and Prey

For some reason I think
Of water in desert lands. The
Slow suck and pull of it
Down and
Down to some sweet hidden lake
Below. While

Out there by the break of
Trees you can just see a
Shadow pacing and pawing
Perhaps at some ripped up
Side of a tree. But

Still that image. The water.
The heat. The barren, dull,
Quiet, absolute quiet, of
Hot lands in cold
Months when all we can see

Is something out there.
Something out there.

Off to Uluru

There are a lot of places in the world I never really thought I would ever get to see, whether because of timing, distance, or political unrest. For a long time, in fact for probably the bulk of my life, I never dreamed I would make it to Uluru. It just always seemed too remote, too far, too much of everything. Like it was on another planet. Lost somewhere in the distance.

But, today I saw it.

It still surprises me, considering all of the odd and strange and beautiful places I have been to, how that thrill still gets to me. That greatest of natural highs. An almost uncontainable happiness and personal satisfaction. That feeling that you did it, the world be damned. My other great joy about being in places like this is also perhaps more vain. I love being the first one in my family to have ever been here. The place is mine in a sense. My own in my family, and every foot-print a step forward into uncharted family waters. It’s a great feeling.

This is, though, just the start. I’m here for the next 3 days, and am going to take it slow. Seeing Uluru up close tomorrow, and Kata Tjuta the day after, followed by another, final day in the area. Hey, why not? It seems foolish to come all the way out here just to pick up and leave in a day. I want to settle in, and really get to know the place. Tomorrow I start…


The view from my deck!!! I’m staying at Sails in the Desert, a swanky place right by the Rock.

It’s truly called the Red Center for a reason, although right now it is very cold outside. The soil is truly deep red in places, and beautiful purple desert flowers are in bloom. Very, very beautiful. A stark beauty.


A nice view of Uluru from a lookout.

I came back to the lookout to see the sunset. Such marvelous colors.




Tomorrow morning I’ll see the sunrise in the Park, right up against Uluru.

Up the Nile

Great fires that light
Nights of storms and flashes
In barren lands. Where
Hot sands melt and stain
Hats a pale green. But

Waters are fresh and pale
And hide ancient statues of
Unknown pharaohs that I
Learned of once from worm-
Eaten books.

To Ingrid, En Route to Distant Lands

Ingrid, subtle,
Sly as I play
On old pianos with broken,
Frail strings. Singing
And playing.
Singing and

Playing songs of
Desert looks in markets of
Hot, humid winds. I see
It, I brace against
The scouring sands on
Mad days in war-
Torn Morocco.

Yes, so
Subtle, sly that I
Send you away like
Postage in the night. Mail
Set out long after the
Lone messenger has
Gone. Vanished like

Looks from pianos, smiles
From bars with slight
Hands held high. Dear…

Posted as part of Poets United Sunday Poetry Pantry

Hovenweep and Around

Today was at first a day where I couldn’t seem to find the right road. I wandered around, certain that I was right, but ultimately had to turn around and look at my guide book. I am definitely a humbler traveler because of this. I was looking for Hovenweep National Monument, which is actually just over the border in Utah.

The drive takes about an hour, and goes largely over a gravel road up beautiful McElmo Canyon, which is covered in red cliffs and a very fertile valley that actually grows some wine. I drove right by Sutcliffe Vineyard. You then cross the border into Utah and the landscape becomes a barren, foreboding, bleak, almost scary landscape. Like if your car broke down you might die. Or wander off into the desert like Clark Griswold. Hah-hah. But the bleakness gives way to a site I was very surprising by, mainly because I wasn’t really expecting all that much.

Hovenweep is a series of interesting Puebloan structures that, like Mesa Verde, are built along the sides of a canyon. What makes Hovenweep so awesome is that there are massive towers and palace-like buildings. There’s also a great trail that winds along the rim, going through massive sagebrush, and desert sand. It was also very hot again, and I added a new layer of burn to my “tan.” I hung out here for about an hour before driving off along a barren county road that eventually cut back into Colorado and the Canyons of the Ancients. I was looking for Lowry Pueblo, a place best known for its massive kiva.

And one thing that struck me immediately was basically how Colorado, at least in this area, beats out Utah in beauty. Utah was bleak and barren, whereas he hit Colorado and suddenly you’re in this beautiful farming community. You also drive on a gravel road, and usually pass by farmers working in their field. The end of the road was Lowry, which was great mainly because I had the whole place to myself. There’s nothing like being at a site with no one else around. You tend to forget how much noise people make.

After Lowry I cut back through the fields to a bigger highway, drove through underwhelming Dolores, dropped by the equally underwhelming Anasazi Cultural Center before getting the urge to go back up to Mesa Verde. I only made it as far as the Visitor Center, though, but still love this drive. Tomorrow I head back North, driving the San Juan Skyway in Ouray.