May 2: What if I Go Singing?

I live in an elm cathedral, where i live there is room for birds. Lady bees bustle rummage sale in the shrubberies all May long. Here, too, the song. I know what i must do, every day lift up the song, the old song, let it be heard here in these streets, let this cathedral…

Day 25: Smoothing the Spirit

old houses hold on. the first day i saw this house i knew it was my home, knew its many windows. its east facing door was the first thing i painted. upstairs, early on, we removed that beige broadloom peculiar to quick flips. such old wood in some rooms refinished, but under the carpet, a ruin, old…

Day 22: Giovanni Caboto’s Trees

this morning’s sun, still pentecostal waters new leaves in broad crowned elms adorned, crowns within crowns with magpie nests, wind-riding as my spring-daft hounds cavort i see again the crowd that day our city, post-millennial, had hired an american urban expert to tell us what to need, now that we’d turned that corner into accepting,…

Day 18: Sakura

Sakura, Yayoi no sora wa… suddenly, this morning, the nanking cherry threw open her curled fists cards on the table, this is the hand given gambling on a full house.

Day 14: Politics and the Hardware Store

nobody knows anyone our secret power lines and the larger lines underwriting over-arching, architecture of the power mad. the young women warriors yell at me, not knowing i’ve been yelled at all my life and i see it passing by. i was young when people hid native ancestry and my family refused that. it was…

Wood Grain Magics

Spent part of the morning staining a fence, observing the swift and easy rise of minutiae by which Life lets us know how relentless it can be. How long, i wondered, would it take for the small legions to take down this fence? A little longer, now, where the stain drags time down to a…