West Desert Journal by Nathan Cowlishaw

Rusty, painted figures
animate on yellow sandstone pallets-
made from red ochre
that endured forty centuries.
These supernatural beings
dance across the pallet.
They are living, breathing souls.
Trees grow from finger tips,
Antennas and tangled hair
sprout from alien heads
I feel the beating heart of the canyon.
I can feel their ghostly patterns.
What are they doing when nobody draws near?
They look without eyes,
Whisper at night.

Painted humans travel
across the rocks.
Headless human beings
hold hands, or connect feet.

I leave a gift, a coin,
Or something.

Written by Nathan Cowlishaw