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On 23rd Ave.
87 wordsA single tree shines green above the concrete, the sun cutting through it from the side, resting on the leaves the way I once saw light filter through alder trees at the river, back when I stood ankle-deep in the catkin-littered creek, and followed it out to the moss, and crawdads, and swirls of slate-gray;…
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Distance
116 wordsThe seas in the moon that sink down, depths darkened and bitter and gray in the distance, mottled by space, by emptiness, by open sky that presses down and forms bruises, deep impressions that glow unbearable in the distance, can you feel it, distance darkened by empty sky, by the movement of birds, by the…
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Home
84 wordsI want to ask the sky to guide me to that unfurled shorein the distance;I want to ask the sunto dance with me,the long-willowed dance of my ancestors,the two of us on the slopes of some mountainbelow the suns of other worlds;I want to ask the moonto be my home,wherever I am–great stirrer of oceans,…
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Driving the Forest at Night
174 wordsIn the darkness, the air begins to smell of drops of water on fallen needles, and rain pulled densely into moss, startled like glass. Can you hear it, there, the shifting of the old mountains underfoot, slumped by wind and the slow trickle of water, the clay skin, the granite stones, the piles of old…
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