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Sometimes, Silence is Reckless…
(Some experimental refractions. Thank you for drizzling by.) The clattering waves. The intractable sky. Mute again, with gloomy grey eyes. A bit of bone cuts into my thumb. A touch of wind whispers...
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Fade to Grain…
Olitory rain; a rain-forest in the kitchen, again. Time for a change. Time for an adventure. Time to let the ceiling-cascade water the counter-top-basil-and-sage. Time to escape. “Time runs along a...
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The Potency of Words- A Conversation With a Young Scientist in a Spring
I am not a conversationalist. I go through life as monosyllabic as possible. I greatly prefer to listen. I lead a mostly silent existence. Just the way I like it. Mute and demure. Ages ago, when I...
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Another Twilight Hanging
I saw a coyote last night. There was a tattered hole in his left ear. I almost missed him, perched there on the porous sidewalk, his lemon eyes glazed in the orange glow of the streetlight, his...
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Every Crushing Step
A humble path, furry with emerald moss and splashed in blue shadow. A shiny-backed beetle suns himself on a cold molar-sized stone, then shuffles off into a copper sea of leaves. So many roving feet...
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Spotted Only with a Magnifying Glass
She is spotted only with a magnifying glass, an animalcule with limescaled wings And a dusky face. Clinging to a breathing blade of dancing chloroplasts, she sees the fractals flash in a fury of...
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The Vitreous Surface of Grief: And, a Death on Halloween
“Will I always feel this way? So empty, so estranged?” – From the song “Empty” by Ray Lamontagne Shadows spill in green tendrils across oiled waters. I probe the murky, moschate depths with a long,...
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A Brittle Wind…
Burring through scaly leaves Along the deer-stamped path A Brittle Wind begins As cobalt moonbeams Paw through knots Of cowering trees The wind wends Through strange limbs And mutilated hands-...
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Where October Lives…
“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and...
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“To The Artist There is Never Anything Ugly…”
“If reality fails to fill us with wonder, it is because we have fallen into the habit of seeing it as ordinary.” – Brassaï “Even the most miserable life is better than a sheltered existence in an...
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