April 18 Baiku
April 19, 2021
Leafless butler trees/ Serving up platters of sky/ Our bellies growling/
Category: Nature
Sap, Rising
March 14, 2021
this blustery March afternoon I’m crossing what is still my back yard for a time drill in hand, a spile, a bright blue bag – 38 degrees, sandals skirting dried dog poop among brown leaves that fell, bright, the autumn before; the hole on the underside of the spile, yesterday confounded me but the sap … More Sap, Rising
Friluftsliv
January 24, 2021
Slips and skips from the lips, it frees me from this bees’ nest wherein barren technology stings and wrings joy from the days, it plucks me from the luckless hum of air conditioning and fair renditions of elevator tunes and spoons me into the bracing air heart racing there and the snow falling, flakes enthralling … More Friluftsliv
Riverine
January 24, 2021
Takes me in its teeth, it’s a sleek wolverine shaking off glassine beads of the setting sun, gleaming over the river cold and clean; Riverine carries me in its furling current; my soul adamantine, unchanging, always changing, the lean walleye and muskies now follow me, hollow seems what we leave upstream, the tangerine sun bleeds … More Riverine
Fire and the Deep
January 4, 2021
I am burning through the decades, not figuratively as I finish my first fifth decade, no literally onto this bonfire I am pitching husks of barnacles like Porterfield Elementary autograph books, 40 years of birthday cards, Christmas photos, school concert programs, playbills, ticket stubs, pay stubs, tree bark, blurry photos, zoo photos, tree photos, maps … More Fire and the Deep
The Earth’s Little Golden Book of Lament
September 13, 2020
This world is a sepulchre, this world is our tomb, cradling the bones of whoever was, and whoever is, and perhaps whoever shall be; This world holds us all fast as it surely weaves through the shroud of stars, the cloak of the Milky Way – And even when we’ve good and ruined this Earth … More The Earth’s Little Golden Book of Lament
Election Year Haiku
September 5, 2020
Fall comes on too strong/ Branches up in summer’s skirt/ Before she thinks no/
That Summer of the Pandemic, It Was All Falling Apart, It was All Coming Together
July 30, 2020
It’s after eight in the evening, and in this antique light, the Queen Anne’s Lace along the roads watches the sinking sun – hundreds of tatted blooms close up like praying hands, like thousands of empty teacups drained and set upon the sideboard of the day. In the morning they’ll open again to catch the … More That Summer of the Pandemic, It Was All Falling Apart, It was All Coming Together
Waiting for Comet Neowise
July 26, 2020
When I pull onto Sunset Beach Road in the purple twilight, a couple is already standing entwined in front of their truck, tail lights pointed at Lake Michigan, peering into the western sky; I am not the only one who thought to watch from the bay. Do you see anything? they ask, without preamble, as … More Waiting for Comet Neowise
By Tacit Agreement, Sunday at the Sensiba Trail
March 23, 2020
We do not speak of the outside world – we whistle at the sun nosing around the fraying stratus clouds, lifting and dropping golden rays that splash our ankles and the winter-dead grasses – we call out to our dogs sniffing one another in turn, then exuberantly rolling in the dead carp that the bald … More By Tacit Agreement, Sunday at the Sensiba Trail
