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“In Nature Nothing Exists Alone” -Rachel Carson
And No Birds Sing: Rachel Carson and Silent Spring- A BBC Podcast on Rachel Carson “The edge of the sea is a strange and beautiful place.” ― Rachel Carson “In every out-thrust headland, in every...
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“The free bird thinks of another breeze”
“The Caged Bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still” – Maya Angelou 1928-2014 “Life is pure adventure, and the sooner we realize that, the quicker we will be able to treat...
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Pothered in Fists of Cloud
Disdain Pothered in Fists of cloud Slippery rain With Ashen light Sliding off the Rims of ripplesTwigs snapping Louder than thunder Creosote eyes Wearing the storm Cinder breath Pawing through Living...
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“What is a Scientist, After All?”– The Birthday of Jacques Yves Cousteau
“What is a scientist after all? It is a curious man looking through a keyhole, the keyhole of nature, trying to know what’s going on.“ ― Jacques-Yves Cousteau “For most of history, man has had to fight...
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Of Lustrous Grey- A Poetry Film
(A new and rather disturbing venture- a wee “poetry video,” oh dear…) This is not the City I hear no violin’s Cry of empathy Wafting up to My lofty pane This is a brushed Little town An ait between...
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Through Spired Shade
There, a glint Through spired shade Emerging A winsome eye Bright and unafraid Between ridges Of vicious spines In a slim curtain Of lemon light Sunset festering Exhausted day Beginning to fade In...
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Purpose…
“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” ― Pablo Picasso
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The Harbour
The harbour lay bare and waiting. I strayed from the Sun, looming in the underbrush, gazing out at bony masts and old tattered umbrellas, dangling in the languid breeze. The wind turbines purred softly...
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The Urging Wind
The urging wind After a young Pelting rain Could not move me The ludic tunes Of the birds above Could not resurrect My once-kind nature I cowered there In my fetal stance Mucid in the mire Incessantly...
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Into Bloodless Blooms
A splinter of sun Bores deep into A clustered column Of bloodless blooms Like a spinal tap
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Pastel Sadness
In a fatal blue fugue, she bruises the edge of an hour. She swallows the Evening’s clear cries of dark-dipping gulls flung across the sunken wound of Sunset. Her brash toes dissolve through the...
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Frozen on a Dog-Day’s Summer Morn- The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge
In general, I live a life fairly indifferent to social media. Indeed it has its merits, but I just like to spend more time in Nature…being bullied by mobs of roguish manatees attempting to overturn my...
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When the Surf Fisherman Decides Not to Wade In
I had a meeting with the Sharks that Sunrise, and they kept their promise. I arrived to the bruised sight of a brooding squall that aged the sky, scudding in and consuming the Dawn. Pale rosy lightning...
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“The World in All Its Tainted Glory”
“Everybody is supposed to be quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.” - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five “His dislike of mankind, of the mass of mankind, amounted almost to an...
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Adopted by a Swan…
Sometimes, humans adopt animals from shelters. Sometimes these kindly benefactors are not satisfied with just the new speckled cat running the house, so they adopt a sparkling, new nonage human as...
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Tired Sky of a December Storm
Wrinkle of pink sun Furrowed in a tired sky- Spider web shudders A prickly-pear claw Pecking at the bone-white path- A marsh mouse crossing Tangled branches crack- Black fury of starlings soar The...
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Coughing Crickets
Gasping moonlight signals through a cloudy ocean beard. Still bodies of flies and dragonflies glint, clinging to the cool, glass skin of dimming florescent lights. Beneath an orange orb of sodium...
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Sunday Foundling- Images in Polaroid
(It was a bleary kind of day, today, and I finally summoned the courage to take the Polaroid Land Camera for a wee walk. Experimental photos below. Thanks for drizzling by.)Dull nolition chimes within...
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“If You Don’t Become the Ocean…”
“I was a man who thrived on solitude… I took no pride in my solitude; but I was dependent on it. The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me.” – Charles Bukowski, Factotum “If you don’t become the...
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“The Sun the Color of Pressed Grapes…”
“He opens his eyes and stares directly into the morning sun which wallows up from the misty sea like some bloated, dying fish. The sky is gray and immobile, a dome of lead. A cloud hangs mute and dark...
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