Blog Archives - High Desert Art

High Desert Art

Agonal

7/31/2017

*War* 36" X 30" Oil On Linen

Agonal

If
I live
To
Be
A
Hundred
And
Ten,
It
Will
Not
Be
Long
Enough
To
Understand
The
Ways
Of
Men,
Who
Maim
And
Kill
In
War’s
Evil
Thrill
And
Never
Cease
Destruction
In
The
Name
Of
Peace,
Until
The
World
Is
Totally
Bereft,
With
Nothing
Sacred
Left.

Before

7/29/2017

*Duy Huynh* Escape Into Life

Before

Strange
How
The
Now
Seeks
To
Blend
With
The
Then,
As
Each
Day,
Memory
Demands
We
Live
It
All
Again,
Respin
How
It
Was,
Every
Random
Frozen
Thought,
And
Who
Said
What
To
Whom
In
A
Long
Gone
Empty
Room.

Second Shower

7/27/2017

*Garden In Rain* 8" H X 10" W Oil On Linen

Second Shower

Rain
Fell
In
The
Night
I see,
As
The
Morning
Grows
Bright,
And
Lingers
In
The
Boughs
Of
The
Evergreen,
Unseen
Until
It
Falls
Again
In
A
Gentle
Wind,
Every
Time
The
Branches
Bend.

Careless

7/25/2017

Careless

The
Doves
Around
Here
Are
Uncommonly
Dumb,
I fear.
They
Dash
Into
My
Windows
With
A
Crash,
Leaving
An
Oily
Smear
On
The
Glass.
What
The
Hell,
I cry,
Don’t
You
Guys
Know
How
To
Fly?
I expect
To
Find
Them
On
The
Deck
With
A
Broken
Neck,
But
Nothing
Is
Ever
There,
They
Are
Always
Back
In
The
Air,
Or
Perched
On
The
Power
Line,
Looking
Feathery
Fine.

Stormy

7/23/2017

Stormy

To
The
West,
Far
Away,
Rain
Falls
In
A
Wide
Grey
Column,
Dense
And
Solemn.
Darkening
The
Plain,
Blessing
Those
It
Passes
Through,
Leaving
The
Rest
To
Do
Without,
In
A
Dusty
July
Drought.

Inventory

7/21/2017

*Dinner For One* Jos. Albert

Inventory

I’m
Not
Young,
Not
Wise
Or
Good,
But
Act
As
I think
I should.
Still,
I must
Confess,
Sometimes
It’s
An
Awful
Mess.
What
Can
I do
But
Muddle
Through?
I show
A
Little
Road
Wear
Here
And
There,
But
Feel
No
Pain
And
Can’t
Complain.
I carry
A
Few
Sharp
Regrets,
Life’s
Priceless
Toys,
That
Do
Not
Dim
The
Light
Of
Precious
Joys,
I can
Say,
And
That
Gets
Me
Through
The
Day.

Garbage

7/19/2017

Garbage

Trucks,
Huge,
Dark
Blue,
Have
Work
To
Do,
And
Hurtle
On
Their
Way,
Taking
The
Remnants
Of
Yesterday.
Mechanisms
Grasp
The
Trash,
And
Mash
It
To
Glue,
Pasting
All
We
Go
Through
To
Form
False
Hills
Outside
Of
Town,
Tall
And
Brown,
Which
Do
Not
Show
That
Nothing
There
Will
Ever
Grow,
Hiding
Until
Some
Fateful
Day,
All
The
Crap
We’ve
Thrown
Away.

Marks

7/17/2017

*Duy Huynh* Colossal

Marks

I intend
To
Depend
On
My
Fragile
Blend
Of
Words
And
Art
And
Every
Day,
Find
Something
To
Say.
Strange
To
Continually
Rearrange
What
I see
And
Convey
How
It
Is
To
Be
Me,
But
In
My
Solitary
Room,
I float
On
Air,
And
Find
Comfort
There.

Dried

7/15/2017

Dried

There
Is
A
Place
Nearby,
In
Rural
New
Mexico,
Where
I go
To
See
The
Ancient
River
Bed.
There,
Long
Ago,
Natives
Left
A
Marked
Tread,
In
A
Lonely
Spot
Where
Once
Water
Flowed,
But
Now
Does
Not.
I stand
On
The
Barren
Sand
And
Wonder
How
Long
The
Aquifer
Will
Last,
Or
Like
The
Past,
Dry
Up,
Empty
Our
Thirsty
Cup
And
Drive
Us
Away,
Like
Those
Who
Dwelt
Here
Only
Yesterday.

Thursday

7/13/2017

Thursday

Mister
B.,
Balancing
A
Cup
Of
Tea,
Is
Every
Thing
Romantic
To
Me.
His
Stately
Grace,
His
Handsome
Face,
Is
Glorious
To
See.
But
He
Is
Bad,
A
Thorough
Cad,
Will
Break
Every
Vow,
Later,
Or
Right
Now.
I pass
The
Cream,
And
Know
He
Is
A
Perilous
Dream
That
Must
Not
Be
Realized,
But
Oh,
Those
Eyes!