Saturday, December 26, 2015

The Weight of Winter


                                       ... after the storm ... pine boughs bend beneath the weight of winter

                       ... ruffed grouse rest in blue silence

Photograph by Montucky:

Saturday, December 12, 2015

In My Seventh Summer

                                                         ... in my seventh summer ... barefoot at the well / I kneel

                       ... between the boards

                                             ... a tiny spot of sunlight ... on the water far below

Friday, December 11, 2015

On Pine Mountain

                                               while my father hunts grouse

                                               I explore the cabin

                                               lying on the bunk

                                               standing at the woodstove

                                               trying out my future self         

Photograph by raphasantos

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

In the Buffalo's Eye

                                             ... in the buffalo's eye

                                                                                    ... all my memories / all our earthly history

            ... the planet earth itself

                                                     ... rolling through dark and infinite space

The photograph is mine, taken in South Dakota.

Saturday, December 5, 2015


                      ... early courtship / early marriage ... early everything

                                                                ... including this solo life I've settled into ... my dog / the deer

         ... and these Bohemian Waxwings who've come to spend the afternoon with me

                                        ... eating berries / spitting seeds ... acting cool in their slicked-back hair

Photograph by Natalia Paklina and Chris van Orden          

Friday, December 4, 2015

In the Woods at Dawn

                                                                          in the woods at dawn

                                                                          a hoot owl calls ...

                                                                          the soft grey sound of loss

Photograph by Hans Bertrand

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

The Things We Leave Behind

                                   do you remember the day we left the lodge

                                   walked into the woods

                                   your family still around the table

                                   noisily remembering all they could get their hands on

                                   how we made love in the snow

                                   my back against the tree / you leaning into me

                                   so often they are the same 

                                   the things we leave behind / the things we carry