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, [...]
Read More identity, poems, poetry, ScotlandI 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 [...]
Read More Idaho, introspection, poetry, roots, ScotlandWilderness. A concept, more than a reality so named because it is to be preserved and protected from the ravages of human society, now sports parking lots, crowded with humans desperate to spend time in the wilderness.
Read More poems, poetry, wildernessI swallow summer, whole, like a wild, sweet berry. You shine verdant, sunlit, fruit on a sacred tree.
Read More photographypale feathered lace blossoms blooming mats of buffalo grass roots so strong as to build houses on the plains grim faced women with grass grown roofs and walls imagine the sweet earth smell of it like the bed of a burrowing owl all roots down and flowers up
Read More photography, poems, poetryThe cool mist of this evening’s cusp, shrugs against the blazing heat of yesterday. My body bows in gratitude for each new drop.
Read More photography, poetryHer 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 [...]
Read More forest, poetryHow many frost-crisp mornings have I watched them in my beloved Northern Valley? Not nearly enough, I can tell you. Ruefully I count them on fingers and not hands. My first sparking thought springs, involuntary …they are electric! Grizzled follicles emit a rolling, bristling energy that can’t be described any other way. I’ve had, always, [...]
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