The women are the river, the meandering, silent river, the quiet riffles near the bank, where a severed arm raises a finger to the sky. The men are everything else – protagonists, loggers, action, jobs, bluster, egos, wind, and rain slanting down from low, gray skies. Read More
I am a Logger’s Daughter
I come from people that were unwilling to give up or give in to the confines of a place or an era or a lot in life. I come from people that were willing to take on the challenge to fight for a way of life, to persevere, to stick together, to be brave. Read More
Kesey’s Coastal Trip: A Field Guide to the Addled Earth
Ken Kesey, the man himself, loomed large during my Eugene years – an elder prankster, still generating a buzz and mild mischief around almost every worthwhile corner. To me, he seemed nearly as venerable, nearly as emblematic of the town’s gestalt and vibe, as the very university buildings that he ambled past – a man just as steeped in his place as the place was steeped in him. Read More
Haunted
As a grade school kid I served as a safety patrol crossing guard. On a corner near my school stood an old, abandoned house. There was a crossing post on this corner that none of us wanted. Many of the kids claimed the house was haunted. The drapes would move in the upstairs window is […]
Magic on the Necanicum
Each year, as mornings become brisk and mist pushes on shore, magic arrives on the Necanicum. I live in a small cabin near the Necanicum River’s estuary, a special corner of Northwest Oregon where a profusion of wildlife, from seagulls and eagles to salmon and elk, share the water and shore. Every morning I sit […]
Forest Quartet
One of two old Sitka spruces,
The stately old lady we call Iluvatar
Shades the east side of the house.
Where roots meet earth, she is an altar—
To approach her, you must ascend.
Some Local Bad News
Three things. First one is a letter I received from Shawn H. Zinszer, Chief, Regulatory Branch, Army Corps of Engineers, for the Commander, Jose L. Aguilar, Colonel, District Commander. It was dated September 8, 2014 and was sent via snail mail from the Army Corps’ Portland district office. It was in response to an email […]
Poem for Iraq
Iraq
I imagine you a desert flower,
succulent and needle-sharp
on the cracking white earth. The color
of mango, or a woman’s wet lips.
A Tasty Find: A Review of Pacific Northwest Forgaging by Douglas Deur
Normally I am one of those readers who skips the preface and introduction, wanting to get right to the heart of the matter. For some reason, I didn’t follow my normal pattern with the book, “Pacific Northwest Foraging” by Douglas Deur. And am I glad! The preface and introduction to this book deftly paint a […]
The Dignity of Decay and Dispossession: The Poetry of Travis Champ
As a teenager visiting Spain, I encountered a series of still-life paintings that astonished me. Instead of the usual perfect fruits laid out in state on starched tablecloths or gilded plates, galaxies of mold damaged these fruits, the tablecloths had been scorched in the act of ironing them, and the plates were cracked. I stood […]
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