Stark, white heat scalds a fragrant froth of sage, distilled like lavender in the searing blaze. And it sings loud and alive with honeybees, an electric white noise, like standing, human, at the heart of the hive.
I am from paper, ink, words, images and spidery handwriting, from Canon, Nideggen, burnt sienna and red ochre, coptic and codex. I am from lands of green, with dark, worked soil, from the adoration of constellations and the heavy scent of woodsmoke in the autumn air. I am from the eagle tree and coyote fire-song, […]identity, poems, poetry, Scotland
I am from travel trailers and Cadillacs, from Pepsi and grass-fed beef. I am from rooms filled with smoke, scotch and melancholy, from woods filled with lichen and hope. I am from Ponderosa parks, the Aurora Borealis. I am from bawdy jokes and black hair, from McKay, and Beller and Edward. I am from the […]Idaho, introspection, poetry, roots, Scotland
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