Sorrow is this Mountain’s Sleeping Bear
When it is snowing yet again
So come, my friend, let us climb once more
Up steeps slopes under their winter coats
And not wait for Persephone’s return
With Spring’s promise of warm lit days
For what is more certain
Than the light revelry in our midst?
This has been sometime in the pipeline. The photographs are mine, taken over the course of 26 days. The text was written by Tushar Gandhi, Mahatama Gandhi’s Great Grandson and director of the 2005 re-enactment of the Salt March. Take a look and if you like, you can order a copy at http://www.blurb.com/books/956012
Operation: Suck Out All the Marrow of Life/To Put to Rout All That Was Not Life; And Not, When I Came to Die, Discover That I Had Not Lived
In tribute to David Foster Wallace
The plan= To head west in a truck dubbed, John W. Silver and steer a course to Utah via undetermined locations.
11-3-09-Madison to Wall, South Dakota to Wyoming. In Yellowstone at a late evening hour W. Blade drove past clouds of steam from nearby hot springs, clouds that captured the nearly full moon’s light and obstructed his view in eerie/delightful/twisting/playful forms. In Jackson, Wy, he connected with long lost friend Tito, before dropping down to Salt Lake along Rt 89.