Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I once wondered how they could spend weeks out on the range.
Now I wonder how I could ever get along without going back...

All roads lead back to this place.

Lovely day, photos, words,
beautiful journeys, all...
despite slow traveling...
Hope to take a jet plane
soon....Coffee in the morning
hanging on to a wing overlooking
the shoreline?

Jenni Mansfield Peal wrote:Phine Photo, mnaz


The Peals are officially rumdum.
I'll let Mr. sign off for the both of us.

To a loverly jam (to be revisited upon waking)
JMP

Good Night To All...

Love faces
vistas from
the range,
peaces of nature,
texas roads,
western plains,
stanzas embarked,
marked by a warm
august smiles.

Blinding reflections of Nevada,
ricochet thru rippling, backlit canyons,
which no one will ever visit...

the rough and tumble travelled land
is this what earth offers?
how could a metal bird deceive me so?

count the altitude
count the ground speed
tick tick go the movies
again and again watch the plane fly

postcards of latitudes
knees across the aisle
sleep beguiled by seatbelts

peeks at geography
italian boots, aegean waves
inching towards a desert

travelling in time and heart
home flicks familiar
jam beckons breakfast

bon appetit
sparkling sounds are sweet

It was always Point A to Point B,
until I noticed the spaces in between,
and geometry was derailed for a time.

I can't figure if this place is large or small.
A metal bird sails over it in mere minutes,
over lifetimes of hard, forgotten paths.

Delivery as such has little meaning for me.
I need to run out to the south, west, east,
kick up a cloud to make sure its real.

kick up a cloud
splash in long island sound
jump over seashells

bake twice in dusty heat
wallow in humidity
wipe the rain from my new york eyes

where the skies hide
or where the clouds roll
let me taste the place

Let me bask in my wrong turn.
Let me load my gear, head out again.
Quiet path, collected dust and myths.
The deserts of my mind crossed,
and the view, occasionally priceless.

all turns taken together
have brought us now
where if we don't run over
it, us or one another
we can go almost any direction
from here

I packed my bag for the train
and gathered my fresh undies for the trip.
Mamma said clean panties are a must.

I saw him on the platform,
eager as a beaver, quivering.
The long trail of greens and dust,
mountains and water,
left me weak in the knees.

I hailed him with my eyes,
lifting my hand in the sky,
setting sail to a needless drawer
of clean panties.

.

the train rolled in
right on time, only the brakes failed
and it took part of the station with it

it was a German train
and all the folks on the platform
were wearing Swiss watches

the wedding went off as planned
from the high bleachers
we watched the bride with binoculars


.

I told you Nevada could be cold,
loose change with spare coin women.
What did you expect from a state
that has coin op hookers?

.



high desert camp fire
stray dog howl
thought i was the moon
burning on one side
freezing on the other
fell to sleep dreaming
woke to find the sun
warm the earth
for one more spin around


.

I hike up the side of a gray peak.
I would never go there, in my right mind,
ragged, dull canyons and moraines,
the color of astronaut moon photos....
Paint the sky black.

I imagine I might jump ten feet high,
leave giant space boot prints for the ages.
my breath is arrhythmic, under my visor,
right there where nothing breathes.
I bend down to pick up a moon rock.