Spirit cracked open
my mumblypeg mind with
heart-to-heart conversation.
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The Last of Us to Look Back
You pull hard enough and you can break
a connection a lot of times.
How many hundreds of miles were we marched
down our Trail of Tears before some of
those connections to our corn snapped?
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Mornings Like These
blue autumnal frosts lace the arbors like a silhouette
frozen brambles litter the forest floor
stillness roams out from under the canopy
what was hidden gives way to a season of knowing
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Holding Hands in Cannon Beach
Can coastal ghosts take
control of boards that
meet on ancestral strands?
Possession risks captivity.
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Three Poems and a Mountain
Here, in a nook of the trembling landscape
where hills push up and back, away from
the crying ocean whose breath is wind,
She looks to her older Rocky cousins.
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Tiny Corner
I am fond
of my tiny corner
of the world: small
towns, beautiful beaches,
artists, writers, musicians.
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Am I a Writer?
A person does not need to sell $30 books or have essays in The Atlantic to be a writer with an audience. Readership is comprised of both casual and avid readers. What they read varies widely.
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Swimming with the Words
How did it feel to Get Lit at the Beach after postponing the event for three years? Like refueling an empty tank, breaking a long fast, or coming up for air? The experience merits more than snappy similes.
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Gift
He needs nothing except the sun to come up another day to celebrate his quiet presence on the earth.
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Old Goat Plunges into Another Year
Fifty winters after my emergence on earth I climbed up a dune and surveyed the beach below. Over a hundred primates were reveling near the frothy hoof of Neah-Kah-Nie Mountain.
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