Explore the human condition
In a high-sided dell the trail turns back on itself,held down by loose river rocks.I slow there, forced into procession by the earth walls and sliding stones. There’s a blackberry bush that welcomes all comers:tooth-bristled branches leaning green tongues outtoRead more…
The only magic I have ever done…wasn’t a love potion or turning something into gold. It had nothing to do with bedknobs or carpet bags.The only magic I have done that matters was at my father’s deathbed. 3am phone voiceRead more…
Horse and rider jump into the race disappearing together into everything right there, in plain sight – in front of all of us who struggle and doubt, unbelievable things are surging back and forth restless with their magnificence. Grab theRead more…
Early there was no more sleep in me.Outside, the world was spinning potions of the short summer darkness into slow color:Grey bucks under a lamb grey sky stood among the river stones,tossing their antlers like crowns. A white crane satRead more…
It was those few important degrees above ice as we raced through the wet forest this morning among the green aliens.The desiccated husks of anise had no sweetness for the sky.The river was too busy to look up, pushing hard,Read more…
Morning draws a line down the middle of the river,On this side, the sun is touching my face like the skin of a lover the second before contactOn the other side, the river steams exuberance against the clean knife bladeRead more…
The quiet gloom is easing along the city streets, relieving the world of its obsession with color, drawing the dark out of every vine and limb. Rest, it murmurs with ice cold lips that feel warm to itself. The redwoodRead more…
Time is a fire that burns through everything: The redwing blackbird, the blood moon, the ranch and its every lilac in the bush. Only the nether of everything remains. A hologram of every ending. Resilience is the only thing. (aRead more…
Morning dresses slowlyWhich lights up the skyWrapping a carmine scarf around the neck of dawnThe oaks shrug off the light and shrink in under their blanketsFor one last dream of walking.The river takes all the paleness spilling over the world,SpreadsRead more…
Bent over his lap,he was a samurai. Nothing deferred him from his work.The hot sun layers down red lacquer on his neck.The late spring foxtails scratched the soft skinof his lower back where the shirt rode up.On the other sideRead more…