Little Colorado River passed several times, running muddy and slow through cattle country of north Arizona,
a pallet of short grasses with knobs of bushes, past the smokestacks of Joseph City, its power lines running
toward
a painter here, Kaemon, who was a kindred spirit and had visited all the nearby places the poets had made
famous. Before him those places were the notorious
silence of unnamed sites.

 

     

 

Up the road is Indian Country, where, "'Uncle Maki,’ Grandmother Earth asked sadly, 'Why are you?'"
Not graffiti, not Land Art, not art made for the market; but where Saturn is gulping his children  down.