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The Breakup Poems
My writing process is circuitous. It winds along rivers and wanders through woodland and ends up in back yards, usually my own. I… More.
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Ship of State
Who knew it was all so fragile? The ship of state a houseboat of cards pontoon shantytown heaving in the hot humid bluster… More.
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Meditating with the Body
One of the somatic meditations I recently introduced into my practice makes me weep uncontrollably, and because of this I don’t often attempt… More.
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There’s a Crack in Everything
Must the world always break our hearts? Maybe it must. Maybe it is the function of the world to break our hearts. To… More.
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Death Toll
When the snow comes we stay in the house with mugs of strong tea and honey, fleece and flannel, buffalo plaid and log-cabin… More.
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New Year’s Day
After a week of grey skies and near-constant drizzle, the first of January is bright and blue, the air so crisp it snaps.… More.
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Sometimes Ashes, Sometimes Dust
I’m reading Timothy Egan’s stark and unsettling story of the Dust Bowl years, The Worst Hard Time, an uneasy feeling keeping me company as… More.
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Hard as That, Too
Here is the part both hard and easy: When you see what’s missing and it’s all that you (simply) stopped doing while you… More.
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No Hard Feelings
I. It’s the water that carries us, after all, like mermaids astride the glistening shell of the giant sea turtle, we are slippery… More.
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Dust Filter
I don’t know what to call this filter through which I’m seeing the world right now. Maybe it’s dust. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe… More.
