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Waterfalls pg2

Clear Creek Falls, Washington 1982

Clear Creek Falls

Clear Creek falls two hundred feet, reflected in this illusion of light and mass, a symbolic language weaves, reveals shadows bold and thin, the threads of

representation.

Below in the canyon the smell of pine.

In a cool draft the falls mist rises, pulled into the heat of the day, against the wet cliff, against my experience, reaching into my feelings of perplexity, in constant movement, a perpetual eclipse.

I work from intuition.

Trying to follow the patterns of incident light, but it changes quickly, each moment remaining transparent. Mysterious.  

Receding and unfolding, peeling into the eye.

Union Creek Falls, Washington 1982

Union Creek Falls

Scared places are clear to Geomancy men, the shape things, curved space, melancholy.  

Through the smoke from the camp fire, next to the American River, I tried to measure the distance traveled in last nights dream.  Against time the plot faded, now just parts of the song remembered.  The wind as dust from the trail.

If I had to choose which door lead to the falls, the nights that where incomplete and the days that where chaotic, I would choose looking at pictures of Entsuji.  A rock and moss composition, the patron goddess of mercy, hanging from the tree, the blossoms of springs.

If I had to choose again.

South Falls, Oregon 1984

Multnomah Falls, Oregon 1985

Ice Cave Fall, Washington 1983

Ice Cave Falls

It seemed like an unlikely place to find the eye of Buddha, surrounded by ice, floating bird shapes, in a cold wet atmosphere, melting little geodesic domes dripping constantly.  

The song poems of Milarepa.

The cold knee deep river, the raw indifferent draft, unprepared I entered chanting a mantra, may there be peace on earth, water, sky, mind and body, everything throughout the universe.

As I stood there very wet and cold, gazing into this spectrum of illusions, no part of my dreams remembered, resembled completeness, I became part of the mirage.

Its music, its sorrow.

A fire inside an ice cave.

Latourell Falls, Oregon 1985

Englishman River Falls, Canada 1996

South Falls

Reaching into the sublime, the source of 

Paradise River, where the velvet light ripples through the trees, then rests on the ash from the fire.  This wood that holds the light, keeps the secrets beneath the dew.

The weight of the owl dips the branch and eyes the fox.  The final bill knelling.

Clusters of blossoms float down the river and over the timelessness of South Falls.  Over the 

layers of years where the land sits motionless. Where the animals hunted, now they stand in meditation above the mournful sound.

Keeping simple cords in harmony night fell quickly.  The trees black voids, drew a image of a women, a line so fragile, sketched with pitch, dust and pine needles.  A gesture a agony against the rocks.

Silver Falls, Canada, 1998