May 22: Certainty of Trees

Gratitude to the rain. Gratitude to the sky. Gratitude to the many tiny things. What are we supposed to do? Arise into cities, bloom and shed light? It’s true, I don’t think much about how my brothers live. There they stand, gnarled still offering softest green in faithful bargain, to the sky. Look how their…

notions 1: bird song

crows, gulls, and those little guys who fly so fast crank and marfle on about topics well outside boxes, wheelhouses, bailiwicks my languages stake out; they might be talking about territory, it’s the one thing we are sure they do; over my head, some sort of fellow with a voice like a movie sound-effect –…

terrible words

Originally posted on Why the 3E Senate is a Silly Idea:
The photo above was taken by paleoartist Emily Willoughby in 2015. It shows Harvard fossil MCZ 4371, the foot of a specimen Deinonychus. Go check out her website of paleoart here. I was a fairly typical kid of my generation; I loved to read about…

Practice

This is not the garden yet, but a beginning, seventeen years worth work submitted to wills and whims of climate. Mid-April and the ground only now in view, shawls of snow lying about like dirty underwear after a particularly long night. The mud, the mud, it’s all mud. Who knows what survives? One thing for…

Song of Praise (resung)

In Nass Valley, one shaft of sun lights two red and white toadstools in damp moss, luminous deeper in cathedral, wingéd ugly fungi, colours i wouldn’t admit there, i and all that i am, no less than the stinkhorn and oozing mud sing the brown and wrinkled, slick and loathsome, what i would not dare…

Seokguram Temple (revisited)

watch the spell these  mountains clarify our breath, that is the sea over there in this grotto, guardians of broken stone can’t stop tourists, nor the thief who pried loose the jewel once in Buddha’s brow at sunrise, they say you could stand just inside doors opened wide toward sea, and the first ray of…

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 7: Writing with Mo

my niece has poetry homework, so we sit in the observation dome car, downstairs where the biggest windows show a river ‘write about that?’ and we forge a haiku about sounds we can only see. then she points out how the river is like the rays in their petting zoo water tank, leaping as zoo…

Day 6:That We Are Home

That we are always home that it is always sacred ground that what we do is nature’s way for humans we need not run into the hills as ants and termites make their cities we, too, dwell together. there is an urban ant network along the south coast of spain for 4000 kilometers, i read…