To draw a line. A simple line can identify both home and trespasser. Political lines describe differences, places of meeting: here and there, you and me, us and them. Natural lines are always clear, but changing. Shoreline, treeline, river, snake, stick, shadow. Lines can protect the sacred, the private, the personal from the public. Open, … More An ethical line
I wake among the starlings, deep inside their morning discussion, which centres mostly on comings and goings. It’s a boisterous, cultural ballyhoodle, ritualized by the turning of the year. Starlings time their arrivals and departures here to the spring and fall equinox, just as we do our school years, our arts industry seasons, interesting. I … More Indications
I can smell the gardenia from here. The late evening breeze that carries its fragrance brings Joni Mitchell and Billie Holiday too and we sit together on my back deck around a candle, watching the air move. They’re both smoking and for the first time since I quit seven years ago I’m tempted to light … More outside in the dark
in this place between eclipse and equinox there is zero gravity before now started there was a certain weightedness planned routines ritualed paths weighted thoughts, articulate well crafted pauses since now began there’s the sense of being drawn- an animated character in a beloved story, drawn out. Danger here, but not much in the beautiful line of … More Since Now Began
It’s the 18th of December, one week before Christmas day. I’ve rehearsed and planned and delivered and engaged, I’ve painted and written and talked and sang and posted, I’ve cooked and sorted and laundered and cared-for and now all of a sudden on the eve of my first day off in what feels like centuries … More In Christmas
The morning is still still and grey weighed down by two feet of spring snow. Even the sky is heavy. The birds do their best to lighten things up but we have no warm welcome for them this year after the long flight north. Just heavy grey, heavy snow, covered in old rabbit tracks. It … More green gathers under
There’s a mystery rash on my right arm – a parting gift from the sowthistle, phlox and goldenrod I ripped out of the ground two days ago. Each gardener forms a style that sits somewhere between super formal and the illusion of ‘meadow’ but regardless, to garden is to chop, uproot, pitch, rip, trim, mow … More Control
