I whirl through space, a sea of aether and stardust, yet can’t lift my eyes from the dirt trodden path. I stumble around ignorant and

More stone than sea I’d be like water, touched by wind, loved by the moon. I’d dwell in deep canyons, travel the furthest reach, and

“It is the nature of stone to be satisfied. It is the nature of water to want to be somewhere else.” – Mary Oliver  

Look for me when leaves burst out and voices of spring ring full in the valley. Follow the snow melt along the Clackamas and Long

Spring flowers rattle the caves, provoking the apostles to take up their pallets of sorrow and leave dark comfort. Trees hide in the rain, fearing

The gravity of your smile, lighthearted yet muscled with the blessings of sorrow, keeps my satellite in orbit, my rage against the machine tempered and

I won’t outlive the sea, not one drop of its salt depth, not the old growth trees nor the stone beneath my feet. I am

The stars we follow have written our names, the ones we’re given on journeys with the sun. The one your mother knew when she regarded

Tune your instrument to the key of praise while morning light shines on the sea. Trees lift their branches in the rising breeze and the

I return to the sea, her face and tide the peace of my heart, the words of our story. From far north to the straits

Scratch a few notes in pencil, erase and feed them to the fire. With your soul at risk what the fire burns is not your

Comfortable in the dark waste of twisted roots, life broke the hardpan forcing me to surface. The morning light blinded, a deafening sound of birds.

Suffer the windswept ocean, the cold air and crested waves on this patch of green. An aquifer of imagination lies underground in pools, rising through

When injuries of deception corrupt the well, orchards shrivel, and predators roam the streets. Warm a cup of silence on the fires of sacrifice; empty

Rain falls, layer upon layer, soaking the spring earth with wet desire. She lies waiting in her dark encampment, for roots to sing, her womb