Driving down the Interstate 27 from Phoenix
to the Grand Canyon in the middle of July,
cacti along the road flashing the finger.
Passing by Montezuma Castle – the ruin
that never saw the Indian chief around.
It’s time-honored tradition to name places
after men we killed. The land we inhabited
was too unforgiving to bury our dead in it.
Skies hung so alarmingly low that ancestors
weren’t able to walk upright – we lifted the skies,
gradually, generation after generation,
until they ceased to be a factor.
On the plateau gravity, water, and wind joined forces
curving castles out of rocks, chiseling images
that make you believe it couldn’t  happen at random.
So please follow a few simple rules:
Do not talk loudly. Do not make eye contact with a rock.
When you stroke a stone the light touch is preferred.

– Boris Kokotov