Indio to Blythe

Desert scenes
Indio to Blythe
Open desert and hot vista
Where I first heard the Western Wall
And cried for Lauren, the dancer

Place where war machines were tested
So they could go triumph on the African continent

Driving space
To reflect on the seen and unseen
Seen across the distance
The potential
Unseen in the near distance
The potential

A place where a strange entrepreneur lived
He sold gas to the travelers
He raised llamas in the heat
He planted palm trees in rows and triangles and circles
Just like he planted conflict in his own family
I wonder if any of them escaped
Across the desert

Heat,
heat and wind,
heat and wind and vastness

One hundred miles
Across this space
So many came west
and saw this as only the last desolate miles
before the promised land
so many went east
and escaped this way through desolation of space and heat
the wind blowing them
further off the path of their lives

One hundred miles
With little of the water of life
And wind to blow our cares
Back as dust in our faces
If that be where our mind is
or to blow them to other places.

It’s another hundred miles
To the ones who sit in the vast space
Or turn off the road
To see the thousand year old petroglyphs
And wonder what beauty there was
When other people came here
To live, to carve, to gaze at the sky

Indio to Blythe
Blythe to Indio
A passage in space
A passing of time
A path through life, westward or eastward
Raw emotions heated to the edge of tolerance
One hundred miles

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See an earlier piece about this place.

Indio to Blythe

Author: Gerry

I welcome you to Sonomabuzz. I am Gerry La Londe-Berg. This started as a blog and immediately morphed into a poetry site. I started as a person and eventually morphed into a poet (among other things).

One thought on “Indio to Blythe”

  1. I like this a lot, Gerry. Images work for me and I don’t even know the drive but I get it – for me there is a desolation here that can reflect the desolation of empty days.
    BTW, I enjoyed the LR/EH version of Dancer but must say that I still find JB’s version to be haunting and evocative.
    Loved reading about “Desert Steve” Ragsdale.
    JT

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