Tag: Art

Wishpoosh

Denny and I, with his Wasco legs, inside Gifford Pinchot… Late, when the dust of the gravel road settles, fast, into black… We cup our hands, to make an old whistle, like the hoot of an owl To settle our minds, to settle our… Continue Reading “Wishpoosh”

Looking For Goldilocks

  We’re measuring distant planets By the flutter of their stars By the flicker of the light That lies Next to their circumference   Abstracting them down Into analyzation Bringing them up to surface Through <code> </code> To words, pictures, and meanings   To… Continue Reading “Looking For Goldilocks”

Tectonic Plates

Cathy is in the twilight heat Before the summer night Moves like tectonic plates. She tells me stories Of shooting people in Vietnam During the war   The rifle she used is under her bed. I saw it when she asked me To feed… Continue Reading “Tectonic Plates”

Cape Disappointment

Here, Saddle Mountain from a distance is a few uneven bumps. The jetties appear as pencil marks, drawn outwards towards the sea. The river wants to keep going, to stretch beyond the haze.  A few old growths dot the forest, challenging the wind. They’re… Continue Reading “Cape Disappointment”

Clay

The shape of our sculptures The flaws in their forms The brittleness of their glaze The density of their mass The allure of kilns     Click on image to enlarge. “Formation”            

Ruins Near A Waterfall

Snippets of blue and clouds Poke through rafters That once held meaning. Still, something walks Within the ruins Weathered old boots…and Ashen hands, brushing Stone, steel, and rust Feeling along debris As if it were night In the summer shade.   Outside, where tourists… Continue Reading “Ruins Near A Waterfall”

The Known

There is this quiet motion When wind brushes trees, Branches bend, a timeless marriage… When there are the smells of summer, Sticky pine and soft cedar… When rivers are a language, Creeping through echoes of green… When shadows move, slow, deliberate Undecided between dream… Continue Reading “The Known”

Flowers And Watchers

The boy picks Wapato in the marsh Just the top stems, not the tubers. He doesn’t see me standing In the mud, watching.   I follow him with quiet eyes Walk through the marsh. As if he’s searching for a vase. There’s a humid… Continue Reading “Flowers And Watchers”

Ramona Falls’ Mist

Ramona’s whisper requites us to ourselves—our fires extinguished, our thirst sated. That voice, a pact between mountain and moisture, is a quiet call to us The stumbling pilgrims, forest wanderers, wishful sages who suffer from acute chatter. Its language—slow—near wordless, near nothing, paints upon… Continue Reading “Ramona Falls’ Mist”

When Josephine The Singer Leaves

There’s a burning inside her and you can see it when she’s holding in her voice. You’re lucky she holds it in, for when it hits air, it cuts you. These cuts cause you to fall inside her furnace, scald you, sting your heart… Continue Reading “When Josephine The Singer Leaves”

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