#AmericanWriters
At the last turn in the path “goodbye—” —bending, bowing, (moss and a bit of wild
I went into the Maverick Bar In Farmington, New Mexico. And drank double shots of bourbon backed with beer. My long hair was tucked up under a…
Siwashing it out once in Siuslaw… I slept under rhododendron All night blossoms fell Shivering on a sheet of cardboar… Feet stuck in my pack
One granite ridge A tree, would be enough Or even a rock, a small creek, A bark shred in a pool. Hill beyond hill, folded and twist…
Swung from the toes out, Belly-breath riding on the knuckle… The ten-pound maul lifts up, Sails in an arc overhead, And then lifts you!
Washing Kai in the sauna, The kerosene lantern set on a box outside the ground-level window, Lights up the edge of the iron sto… washtub down on the slab
Standing at the baggage passing ti… Austin Texas airport—my ride hasn… My former wife is making websites… one son’s seldom seen, the other one and his wife have a…
“O hell, what do mine eyes with grief behold?” Working with an old Singlejack miner, who can sense The vein and cleavage
He crawls to the edge of the foami… He backs up the slab ledge He puts a finger in the water He turns to a trapped pool Puts both hands in the water
Owl calls, pollen dust blows Swirl of light strokes writhing knot-tying light paths,
Out there walking round, looking o… a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed th… plucking, digging, snaring, snaggi… barely getting by, no food out there on dusty slopes…
He had driven half the night From far down San Joaquin Through Mariposa, up the Dangerous Mountain roads, And pulled in at eight a.m.
Old Woman Nature naturally has a bag of bones tucked away somewhere. a whole room full of bones! A scattering of hair and cartilage
Ah to be alive on a mid-September morn fording a stream barefoot, pants rolled up, holding boots, pack on,
Clearing the mind and sliding in to that created space, a web of waters steaming over rock… air misty but not raining, seeing this land from a boat on a…