In the morning sky an archeopteryx, brilliant white, with wings of cloud and spine, the whirling lace of a contrail.
“Hey Dudes, what’s with those humans playing raven speak at us out of those little handheld things?” “I dunno. And why do they keep repeating the same thing over and over again? Buzz bomb the black and white dog….” I heard a couple of ravens laughing the other day, maybe the real joke was that […]jokes, ravens
sharp and green as silver needles tugging raw linen thread, the smell of sun on wet juniper draws me back tight to sew the scent to my memory.
Daddy Dog is in the back room with Mouse (Mouse is actually Sadie the Border Collie). Mouse: (and here you should know that we make our dogs talk in funny voices!) “Mom…..Daddy is kissing me” Mama Dog: (making coffee for the next morning) “Wow…lucky you, he hasn’t kissed me yet today.” Daddy Dog: […]border collies
Her dark fingers reach through deep dreams and throw spiderling threads around our hearts – citybound far too long. The silk draws us close to Her green forested body. We desire the air that smells primal, like black earth – like rushing snowmelt – and banks chilled silver in evening’s last light. I dream again […]forest, poetry