i have written your words on my skinto hold while i learn to speak you.shaped my tongue and breath around namesthat ache with the smell of you,murmured exhaled ripplesalong my palateacross your pebble bed backto the edge of sandy placeswhere your forest beingcrowds the shore. i have written what the birds singand the shape of…
it is the simplest thing to swallow the earth small seeds yield green leaves bright against rich soil – handfuls of greens fresh chopped with sharp garlic and moistened with olive oil spooned generous onto pasta new rolled and hung on the elder staff to dry. it is the simplest thing to eat the earth…
first call of spring did i expect perfection that first evening of spring when the red chested cuckoo called me outside to see the evening star in a salmon sky – clear and still horizon to hilled horizon where all but he held its breath while his song fell from the trees. second call…
unclothed would be impractical 6am autumn cold climbing through fences pushing brush thicket to be here with the sky, but there is a nakedness to this meeting between my breath and that which breathes me here in the half light, a snorting foot stamping aliveness that crackles between hill and skin and sky. please tell…
please don’t post another picture of sun-draped trees and rainbows and tell me from the comfort of your squishy couch and smartphone screen how you want to live in nature. when we say we want to go out in nature every day walk in nature be in nature sit in nature while the world…