Thursday, December 23, 2010


(Ventana Canyon, AZ to "porque te vas" and others in full chemtraicolor, part 2)

"hoy en mi ventana brilla el sol
y el corazon
se pone triste contemplando la ciudad porque te vas...
me olvidaras, me olvidaras..."

abre mi ventana
abre mi ventana, catalina
lets move our clouds to the tucson valley
lets have our thrills on garnet hills
let's just not return to the tucson valley
let's have our quills on faerie holes

let's have a party in the house of catalina
let's pose on the couch and borrow her crystals
let's celebrate, our cups so runneth over
let's have fun, let the spider free!

we are the priestesses of imperfectly poor planning and impunctuality with the patron saint of impossible cases she can't hold a candle to Caridad del Cobre -->

with your light and power, abre mi ventana.

"Porque te Vas" written by José Luis Perales and performed by Jeanette first in 1974

about Ventana Canyon, from a (alternate) hiker's perpective

another spiritual type canyon thing:

Wednesday, December 8, 2010


O Sing of the Sky Islands, my first steps on the grandmothers who are actually called Sierra Madre ...desert foothills suddenly teeming with saguaros give way to the seven cataracts and hundreds of stacked rocks, then a pine forest at 8000 feet...and the chem-trails disappear, giving us full access to the sun ----------------------------------------------------
1. Saint Catherine of Alexandria
(missionary man, Eusebio Francisco Kino named these mountains Santa Catalina after her, 1697) "Catherine liked high places,
High up on the hills
A place for making noises
A place for making noises
Noises like the whales Here she built a chapel Her image on the wall
A place where she could rest
A place where she could wash

and listen to the wind blow

he dreamed of childrens' voices
And torture on the wheel

Patron saint of nothing
A woman of the hills

She once was a lady
Of pleasure and high-born
A lady of the city
But now she sits and moans... and listens to the wind blow
I see her in her chapel
High up on the hill
She must be so lonely
Oh Mother, can't we give
A husband to our Catherine
A handsome one, a dear
A rich one for the lady
Someone to listen with
"* She is "the patroness of philosophers and preachers" and "spinsters" and/or "married women" or maybe "nothing" and she forsook an earthbound husband for one whose "beauty was more radiant than the shining of the sun" (*"The Wind" by PJ Harvey, 1998, about St. Catherine and the hilltop chapel close to her birthplace)
(Later, highest peak Mt. Lemmon was named for Sara Lemmon, botanist. It was unusual for mountain to be named for a woman by two different groups of European settlers.)

The scenic byway is a path to another world, an evergreen island in the Sonora Desert

3000 to 8000 feet on one road, we're just sitting above Tucson but it feels like we've gone for miles and miles in these ballet flats and giants standing like rocks between canyons that will literally take your breath away...
The Seven Cataracts, canyons become common as stoplights in the city...
Mysteriously, the chem-trails that cover the valley are not in these skies! Wonder why?
next episode, Kate Bush (another Catherine) and orgonite...

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Saguardians of Santa Catalina

Rainbows from an overnight storm that followed us but were stopped by the guardians of Indio and then the Saguardians of Santa Catalina...

...thankful some much needed sun and an "epic sky"

...where am I?

a strange homeland security mystery, we got this strange feeling we were being followed,
we looked back and saw a cute tank in the desert, sweetly smiling
but found our haven, in the shadows of the protectors of the desert, the Saguardians of Santa Catalina.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

wandering goats led me on: crossing the moodswing vales

It all began with a trip to the Wandering Goat coffeebar in Eugene. wind, rains, and lonely days getting me down, this was an escape through a hole in a cloud from the escape I was in.
The 44th parallel, that hazy space where sun worship leads the way, even amid clouds and rain.
a sign that the trollbridges of the City of Roses could not keep me much longer.
and the rains and wind kept blowing, the grey winter coming soon and so with them my moodswing fell as well,
I needed the mountain, the pulse from deep inside it
I needed the sun, must open clouds to find it
but even on the way out through green swept vales she can't make up her mind
the angels have the honey, they're just so hard to find

ooh, Umpqua is a place on earth
land of the thousand cookies and waterfalls

but she still can't make up her mind
Siskiyou what are you trying to do? please let us through.

once there was sun: the Lower MacLeay Park, Portland

once, not so long ago, there was a warm sunny day after a rainstorm, a perfect day for a run through an urban wet forest. the Lower MacLeay is a gateway to Forest Park somewhere in the middle, between the zoo/arboretum complex and the wild ridge above saint johns bridge.
follow the amazing Balch Creek past the remains of a faerie house and up the canopy the surprise of the Portland Audobon bird sanctuary. and the trail went on, chirps and big firs and fernhouses

and then taking the wildwood trail down to arboretum, up up hill until the Pittock Acres mansion opens up with that iconic Hooded and Tabored view of the cityscape, making it so worth the hike. rose-patch in front of downtown in front of Mt. Tabor, topped by Mt. Hood hiding behind a cloud. it's all here, in front of us.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

There is nothing more Portland than Mount Tabor, boom, boom

....and left this fertile land....

When the rains come and you're feeling down in the Rosy City, nothing quite compares to a visit to Mount Tabor. This is the Portland I remember, the fir smell, the air, one climb and it all came back. The old volcano is a temple of peace in this city, no other city I've been to has anything like it. The ancient fire within warms your heart, others in the park notice it too, it's a little like on Shasta but uniquely itself in its easy reachability. Several buslines take you there, the 14, 15, and 4 at least all go near, and if you have a car you can drive up at least part of the way. Need a break from hipsters on Hawthorne? Look east and up.

"Clackamas, paws, boom boom" beats the heart of the volcano maiden

To the west look down at the city, to the east look out at Hana, Mount Hood
Sister of Tabor
Hana stands clear with glowing white hair
a little pink in the setting sun
her sister called and said come see me
so now I am here and today the sky's clear
so I could walk cross the evergreen branch and go and see Her too
"It's cold up here," She says, "are you prepared?
And storms come quick so leave if you're scared."
Then the wind whistled and all I could see
was millions of Firs putting hands out for me
Timberline, she died here and her ashes were spread
falling like rain on Hana's white head
On adventurous days, she says, her hair turns pink
come next sunny day and I'll get you a drink (spring)
oh Hana oh Hana we sit and watch you from Tabor's green hall in the fall
and down will come baby, Craters and all

hoods like hana
craters and all

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Fallow Tales

FALLOW TALES, the fourth Found Objects of Desire album....

from the flowerhouse of sapodilla to the northwest woods, from a crow sheltering her crops on a barren prairie to a waking volcano mama-to-be, we carry the messages back to Appalachia on our mixed up caribou...

...officially released on Fall Equinox 2010 along with a Flee-market at CouchCouch Theatre in Atlanta, GA...

snow white and blue (columbia gorge in winter)
anubis then coyote (high desert in summer, california)
mount tabor birthing song (cascade volcano near the clackamas)
lodgepole pine (the great northwest)
dig deeper, darling (ancient heartbeats, seed verse thanks to Greg of Streason)
crow day (sand creek, crossroad of the west)
my apprehensive stolen heart (new version of old traveling song)
trahlyta (cedar mountain, gold country north georgia)
rising fawn (cloudland canyon, keown falls, the hills from chattanooga back to atlanta)

cover art by lynlee, priestess of sugar creek
recorded at sugar creek in atlanta, ga
produced by sean t conlon, the irish lion
drums by melissa lonely
lead guitar, backing vocals, other stuff by lynlee
guitar, keyboard, hand percussion, lead vocals by arianna

everyone is currently doing solo collaborations
for a cd ($5 sugg doe-nation) contact arianna

Friday, October 22, 2010

miles and miles in black ballet flats: my first autumn day in Forest Park, Portland

...MILEPOST 17 or SO...

on a fallen tree in Forest Park
dewy mush fungus white pod things and longhair moss, green shag carpet and the hollies and ferns along the halloway
Clouds cover today for the first time since I arrived in town
Will today be the beginning of the rain?
I've heard people talk that it is coming, soon
The low constant roar of trucks on Saint Helens Road and Saint Johns Bridge
disappear and slence for a moment - was that the train? I'm deep in a forest.
Wait. the MAX goes through a tunnel deep beneath this Tualatin hill.

...Now I hear voices, human voices, sounds like a radio or phone. (?!)
I'm just taking pictures of mushrooms here, up there glistening in the sun.
what would the deer that ran by say?
I've walked to get here a long way.
Miles and miles in Ballet Flats.
I'm the guard of the fallen trees -
sword as splinter to the tramps
who pass though the moss house of faerys

Miles and Miles in ballet flats.
I walk this far to show you that
I can - alone and guided by no man

Miles and miles in ballet flats
I seek to find you, sister dear

whether playa or Under Ice
I feeel your heart pumping so near

For Faith is still a Flatiron, and I mean the mountain,
just before a quick storm
and Hope is Saint John, waiting for the bus over his bridge
in the rain again at 5 pm

and then there's Other sister, you,
sunning yourself on a piece of the rock you found at the base of an Altar that
forms a Bridge
connecting the faerys from here but I've heard youmay fall -
no you'll swing like Wallenda on Tallulah but will NOT fall
if you are walking in Black Ballet Flats!!!

Among the firs which are not really firs, they look more like ferns (cause they're Western Red Cedars)
Ballet Slippers are a gift from the faerys, made by the gnomes.
Oh my, it's getting cloudy, if these shoes get wet, I have to find the Orc to make me a towel in his mill by the river below

(it's polluting the river, but he's a holdout from the old days,
he has a boat and he lives in Oswego and has several Beavers as Maids)

About the park