A River’s Soliloquy

A River’s Soliloquy

I am weary; I am not tired. Though only sleep and jest are true I do not think a rest will do. The river that once ran cold and clear now chokes with green. Mired with the accumulating silt of years. Youth was all constraint and indecision: a white-cold roiling to be...
When the Birds Call

When the Birds Call

You wake before the birds,      during the dark’s slow decay into the pale light of dawning day.      Your mind holds thoughts— that hold no words,      like dreams too-soon forgot. Outside, a lonesome cry,      a beckoning belief that there is more than silent...
Seaworm Speech

Seaworm Speech

I doubt his oar had ever smote the wine dark sea when Homer, or whoever, wrote The Odyssey, nor had he spent a golden hour in the garden of a god. And so the ‘epic’ reads like virginal fantasy— fetish the clever, fever of stolen power; blind the warden;...
A Center that Will Hold

A Center that Will Hold

Even as we all are hurtling apart, following diverging vectors, there is comfort in the circling. Even our anchoring sun, who hectors the planets, orbits in a greater sky. We all circle and are circled by. We seek the very center that we fly from— the power that both...