Tag Archives: Kevin Michael Davis

Kevin Michael Davis

February 16, 1982 – July 23, 2010

Overlook Tower

Arches of Scoria

Arches of scoria,

bridging eye to eye,

we lean back, falling gently. 

Stones like hands

catch our curiosities

at the cusp of a cool wind. 

Delicate branches reach down:

fingers wrapped around supports of light

peering through a passage of silence. 

Our eyes close momentarily,

and the passage inundates with another kind of light. 

The train,

several minutes late – as usual –

leads us to bustling boardwalks and ocean breezes.

Thronged by movement,

silence shies away,

its wisdom stowed between new verbs.

We must pay heed.

For in silence,

the arches collapse into a volcanic flow

and collide into the ocean’s embrace. 

Cool winds carry us, as equals, to stark realities.

Frailty inspires us. 

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Overview of Chaco Canyon Ruins

Photograph by Kevin Michael Davis (Alazanto)

Thinking of Kevin today


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By Alazanto, our son, Kevin Davis


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a photograph by Kevin Michael Davis (Alazanto)

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Doorway at Chaco Canyon, In Memory of Kevin Michael Davis

Doorways at Chaco Canyon

Kevin Michael Davis, our son, has been gone for nine years.  He took this photo while visiting us while we lived in Continental Divide, NM.  We wish we could walk through these doors and see him for at least one more time.


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Kevin Davis.jpg

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

His breathing
became ragged.

It was a rainy day.
At 6:00 p.m.
he passed away.

I was with him,
finally alone,
all afternoon.
I told him I was sorry
he had to endure
this ending.

A woman doctor
came up from
a different floor
to say to me
that when we die,
we choose the people
we want to be with.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry


a photograph by Kevin Michael Davis, our son, Alazanto)



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Kevin Michael Davis, In Memorium

a photograph by Kevin Michael Davis, Alazanto

Sinking Chair June 15, 2008

The Design Teacher

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

She taught him
to look at the dragonfly—
its color, design,
and to look at why their wings
moved the way they did.

They searched near
the small pond
and found the black and whites,
the emerald greens,
the slim turquoise and black damsels,
the orange and blues.
All had whirling lace wings
above their heads.

One day they saw
a golden dragonfly,
or so they thought–

so they came to find
the new dragonfly
in the late afternoon light
near the small pond
in a universe

that slipped through
a hole in the basket
never to be found
or picked up again.


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In Memory of Kevin Michael Davis


drawing by Ethel Mortenson Davis


Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis