Jim Sienkiewicz's Blog

Jim Sienkiewicz's thoughts on his own and others' photography

High Desert

Landscape like leather
a world stripped bare of excess
and what man would call life
he kills those he chooses, no trespass greater, than poor fate
and running across him

Hard hills
no streams, no springs, no port of egress
it will swallow you in its parched gulp
it makes haste to drain the blood of what dare cross it
but still you encounter him

Pinnacles proliferated
but with no signs of a savior
no holy cross formed of snow and ice
the land as barren as your thoughts, he will endure you here,
against all determination

Not man, not mountain
morose, morbid monuments of dust
gathered at the feet of an unfeeling god
left to the devices of a de-peopled place that cares little
for your lot or escape

Manifest misery
politics of a point on a map
a territory inhabited by no one
a heat mortal by existence alone, crushing cloud of fact
unabated by attempts to outlast

Downward drag
your body feeds nothing
returned to a source of bad water
that never reaches the surface, only desperate fissures
left to erode over time

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