I have yet to touch or feel
the "spirituality" of Sedona.
self-named energy vortex,
a western movie set,
plopped in the valley of
consecrated cathedrals,
sheared crimson stone.

Green goblins have prostituted landscapes.
Savage developers have embezzled
blood from the rocks,
raped Snoopy's innocent inner-child,
ravaged spectacular desert horizons
with cloned strip mall mentality.

Magnetic crystalline energy is pilfered.
Electric/telephone wires,
strung like Christmas lights
across scarlet buttes and mesas
surround Oak Creek Canyon,
where eroded red silt floods Dry Creek.

Uptown is a rubber tomahawk.
The storefronts appear unique.
But, within shops,
the non-distinct cigar store Indian,
Boomtown Western motif,
humiliates the natives.

I've yet to meet sincere human beings,
locals with smiles,
clerks with good attitudes.
Even t-shirts are dyed
in robbed red dirt.
At night you could be anywhere.

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