Blog

After it was over and they could talk about their freedom they said – well it’s not like what happened could be explained in concrete terms – no, not as if we’d timed it so we were able to observe ...

On the Hunt He looked everywhere. He has looked to the skies, in nature, in power, in relationships, in success, in symbols and dreams and stories and song. Indeed, so fervent is he in his hunting he ...

So I’ve been in an unpredictable frame of mind lately. Disappointed in myself. Lacking gratitude. Wanting more than I already have. More of what? That’s what gets confusing. Feeling like I need what I ...

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This is the edge of what is soon to be – an in-between place like a dock with sea warped boards jutting out across an eddy that might be salt water or it might be fresh. What I know is that the depths ...

Disturb us, Lord, when We are too pleased with ourselves, When our dreams have come true Because we dreamed too little, When we arrived safely Because we sailed too close to the shore. Disturb us, ...

When I was in Puerto Rico, author Mayra Santos-Fibros talked about the practice of setting out a meal for the dead. I was surprised at the practice and wasn’t tempted to follow it, but it did ...

Delphiniums, those glorious petals in a gardner’s crown are not easily won. When small they can be devoured in a singl evening by a snail the size of a thumbnail. If they live past infancy, they ...

What’s not in the picture is Mother. But she’s here just beyond the rise. We know this by the circular tracks. Mother doesn’t like backing up. She’s often said so. To make sure ...

I am a button of bone – hewn from the tibia of a dead donkey, sanded smooth between the thumb and index finger of a woman the age of time. After smoothing me she bore me through with an awl ...

When I first brought them from my mother’s garden, they were limp, weedlike. She called them Evening Primrose. She said they would multiply, be lovely in the Spring. I was septical. I waited. ...

…I am an urn of Adam’s skin, the thickness of a lifetime. When kicked I spill protesting blood. Each year, Spring takes a swing at bringing me around. Spring sings a resurrection song I ...