#AmericanWriters
Ah to be alive on a mid-September morn fording a stream barefoot, pants rolled up, holding boots, pack on,
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
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
I’m wondering where you are now Married, or mad, or free: Wherever you are you’re likely gla… But memory troubles me. We could’ve had us children,
We finished clearing the last Section of trail by noon, High on the ridge-side Two thousand feet above the creek Reached the pass, went 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…
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…
Beat-up datsun idling in the road shreds of fog almost-vertical hillsides drop awa… huge stumps fading into mist soft warm rain
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…
The sour smell, blue stain, water squirts out round the wedge, Lifting quarters of rounds covered with ants,
All this new stuff goes on top turn it over, turn it over wait and water down from the dark bottom turn it inside out
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…
A few light flakes of snow Fall in the feeble sun; Birds sing in the cold, A warbler by the wall. The plum Buds tight and chill soon bloom.
“O hell, what do mine eyes with grief behold?” Working with an old Singlejack miner, who can sense The vein and cleavage