Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Tucson Brush Strokes
By Don Iannone

Nothing hides the searing hot sun
at noon in June in Tucson,
where the maize-colored desert sand
befriends the olive-green sagebrush,
and the gangly octopus-armed saguaro
stretch lazily in powder blue sky,
and where ragged dull gray-green mountains
cradle you in their powerful arms,
while the old pueblo sleeping inside you
slowly melts back into its original abode.


Dan said...


Pat Paulk said...

Don this a fantastic poem!! Beautifully worded with a kicked back attitude!!

Don Iannone said...

Thanks Dan and Pat. It's good to have your company at CL.

Mike said...

I like your descriptive use of color in this poem. Their frequency gives them a "flashing" feeling... like on my "mental screen" I could see these colors flashing by as you kept mentioning new ones on line after line.

Darius said...

This may be my "personal favorite" so far. A stark form of beauty really comes across.

jim said...

I can already sense the style of paintings you are going to do, if you weren't so far away, I would offer you classes. Have no fear, if you choose to take it up, you will master it in no time, learn on the job. Great painting/poem. I'm envious.

Don Iannone said...

Jim...Painting, eh? A Grandpa Moses? LOL. Maybe. I write poetry and did some drawing along the line. Who knows. Thanks for the offer. Do you paint?

Don Iannone said...


Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.

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