September cooling to October stops the throat with a doughy phlegm; a hundred years ago “lung fever” killed thousands, left the rest to cabin fever — then, for whoever emerged from that white chrysalis: spring. Dying, my grandmother took an interest in migration, tallying species at the hospital feeder. I almost believed the evening grosbeak…
The pine floor looses its last green to the hands of the woman beside me. She takes small stalks — heal-all and aster — to sketch in the evening, of this, the first day of a fast fading October. Only then, slowly searching the underbrush, do we sense the ordered row of quartz markers and…
Dawn. Ice. Light. Third dawn in the season of ice. For the third time we submitted ourselves to the cold and cramped interior of the black carriage, and in most respects this ride, though shorter, was like the last: Bel Esprit was again dressed in red and wore her hat; Seigneur and I were hooded;…
Here in purgatory bare ground is visible, except in shady places where snow prevails. Still, each day sees the restoration of another animal: a sparrow, just now a sleepy wasp; and, at twilight, the skunk pokes out of the den, anxious for mates and meals. . . . On the floor of the woodshed the…
If only I could tell you how wildness-shows the space between us and the green world; how an island is the same island with our presence, but with that presence we lose some hope of seeing, say, a horse, or the dead gnarled limbs of an oak sunk in sand. Edward Weston saw it in…
Mom says she won’t; we’ll have to clean them, though she used to do it when I fished with dad. Dad’s illness wore her down; I think she felt relief after he died, and didn’t mourn him long enough before she married Sam. I know there is an art to cleaning fish. In ancient times,…
In what heaven or hell do you, Bob, booze? If heaven, there’s gin sempiternal, you wake on a cloud press a button and an angel comes in with an enchanting tinkle or, if you’re allowed in the Elysian Fields (why not? you boozed an epic amount), you’ll wander till you find that stream of gin,…
Twist away the gates of steel — Devo O wide blossom-splashed private drives Along which sullen mouthed little guys In motorized surreys Ride shotgun over spectacular philodendra! O paradise of zombies! O terminal antipathy to twist And shout! O hotel sized garages Inside which smoothly tooled imported motors Purr like big pussies under long polished…
she came. i went. i walked. i saw. she sang. she spat. i came. she ran. she spoke. i climbed. she left. i bloomed. i walked. she ran. i laughed. she cried. she played. i woke. she groaned. i sang. she gasped. i shrieked. she yelped. i barked. she growled. i moved. she sat. she…
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