Inside the Catalinas

"A man could be a lover and defender of the wilderness without ever in his lifetime leaving the boundaries of asphalt, powerlines, and right-angled surfaces. We need wilderness whether or not we ever set foot in it." – Abbey, from Desert Solitaire











Finger Rock Trail up Pima Canyon
a perpetual fire of shades of green –
first thing you notice, the sequined
array of the Seguaro, the ochitillo –
prickly pear abloom by a yellow we forget

Stop and look into the thousand little
dens that line the seguaro – common wrens
hole up here, no doubt a subtle feast
from within gaurded against the sun

Foothills lined by gargantuan brick homes;
down below the city rises up from desert,
but all that seems possible up along the trail
as the bedrocks fan out in permanant waves
and the foot has to be careful,
watching, all the while, for crossing
creature from palo verde limbs

Cold Mountain knew the trouble
of cities. The ghosts of a million intentions,
caught up and could never see how
the trail of Finger Rock leads to a nothing
of sage and where the ochotillo
sprawls up like such a foreign fan

and reminds you that...