Haiku - Hopi Reservation et al.

Rusted stone made sharp
by distance softens to small,
infinite detail.
...
A waterway left
stagnant, remains a blessing
in this bereft place.
...
Time peeled away -
by wind, snow, rain - gathers at
the foot; returning.
...
Patches of green on
the red & yellow fabric
fluttering in place.

These are from last Thursday's trip (11 August) to the Hopi Reservation to visit with Red Feather, an affordable housing organization doing strawbale buildings. It was part of my internship with the Sustainable Building Program and was interesting and exciting, and just somewhat frustrating. These are mostly comments on the landscape which was beautiful and austere.

Also:

[2 August, Rain]
Does a drop make rain,
or the percussive song, or
umbrella-less-ness?
...
[3 August, Heritage Square]
Stone hewn & raw, born
& borne here; what names are known
to the stone alone?
...
[6 August, inspired by an old voicemail from Anna]
Listening to past
voices, loving parallels
& coming future.
...
[7 August, yardwork]
Here I have made a
shelter, just wood & stone &
green, sun-born shadows.
...
Hands that have sculpted
an earthen cradle for our
small, warm reaching flames.
...
[7 August, reflecting on occult research]
A mother spider
looms in occult space, pregnant
with bastard children.
...
Quine jests of chasing
squirrels around trees, but that
tree is not the Tree.
...
One, two, three... numbers,
not time. What then, is time &
what revolves outside?