Burning Man 97!

All these things I wanted to do. . .photos, writing, etc. . .they all went by the wayside. I ditched the camera on Day 1, ditched my clothes by Day 2, and gave up on the writing, except for these two little bits of mental flatulence. But pictures and poetry will never equal the experience I had on the Hualapai Playa. They can't even begin to capture the experience that began the first afternoon when I crawled, sweaty and dusty, out of the tiny end of the Ammonite.

The desert hills tremble with their coming

raising dust in their dirtbound trail

homo hetero bi

does it matter?

Artisan, voyeur, deviant, and curious

Through the blazing day

and frigid night they come

these hordes myriad

Seeking to discover

Hoping to display

Look at me! they shout

What will you show me? they ask

A man

A symbol

in itself without meaning

burning in the summer night

in the desert

under the stars

it's not the icon

but the interpreters who make it good.

Poetry Copyright 1997
Elwing Enterprises

Walking naked by the man

uncovered, uncloaked

This is me

Who I am

What I am

All I am

What would I hide?

Burn the Man!

I am the man

I am a man

See?

My manhood proof

dangles here

this little stump of flesh

ani-burn.gif (5194 bytes)

I'll not hide

Who can hide from the man anyway?

Here is what I offer

myself open

my light undimmed, unshaded

I offer not what you see

I offer what I feel

What do you feel?

Take my freedom

for your own

Let my openness

spring your doors

and let the desert wind

Blow clean through