For a while now this blog has languished, neglected. I didn’t have a plan when I started it, so it turned into a kind of catch-all. Recently some developments and chance encounters have helped me gain a more specific sense of what I’d like this blog to be for and about. All this to say, … Continue reading Announcement: major overhaul soon
Is that clock right? (Note: I wrote this before the events at the US Capitol on January 06. After some time to gain more clarity on what happened there, I will probably consider those events in a similar vein to the essay below.) They say that stopped clocks are right twice a day, but we … Continue reading On stopped clocks (Stopped Clocks series #1)
For about four years now I've been tracking my reading. First, I used index cards in a box, which I have since supplemented using an app called Reading List for a digital backup. Normally I use the index cards as bookmarks while reading, but since all my books have been packed up for our move … Continue reading Final Reading Log of 2020
Throw it away, now that you've drifted across. Do you still need it? But how could you discard such a precious tool? Sure seems rude. When did I think that simply knowing was enough? Was I deluded? Form is emptiness. Likewise, emptiness is form. You know?
When the first cold wind finds it way to your bones,welcome your old friend. Has there ever beena better time for poemsthan winter’s holding?
What have I “expressed”if my words only stay long enough to use me?If “I” speak, why that’s news to me. I always thought it was just the wind.
Auspicious, to watch as a single yellow leaf crashes to the Earth. It happens all the time, but only when you aren't watching.
Emerald luster fades as each new year passes. Will it shine again? I look out as dawn reveals the trees, and I'm not so sure. The moon is always there, concealed by the sun's light. More patient than me. What else might we find, patient, waiting for the light to dim?
Weeds were here before anyone thought to pull them. And why pull them now? Furrows ooze a thick, fertile scent. Can you smell it, on the tractor?
A torrent of new faces behind the trees, lost for the forest. Hints are all we can hope for, unconcealed in the revealing darkness. Pretend, just for now, that to dream and wake align. Where does truth live then?