She gathers in the mist the mornings I don't feel like writing. Then sends me a book of poetry that'll be my wings or my demise. It's a compromise, this life of the hand life of the mind. Theft is a compromise. I agree that you can steal my life but will you please give… Continue reading Ask For Something Else, Nachiketa
I could see that all the concepts to which I'd been clinging, the very notion of existence itself, were empty fabrications. My spirit became light and clear. I was dancing wildly for joy. I could hear the small birds chirping in the trees, and see the distant waves glistening in the rising sun. The leaves… Continue reading Masanobu Awakes
Tired of the moon following the sun And gravity in general Tired of the feasting and the vanities, The luxurious and ludicrous Tired of being pulled and in the churning wake of it all What happens when you let go Or crash out, fling-swing In some violent attempt at glory? Anything but holding on steady… Continue reading Rarely the Cure
On the bright lights And rainbow chard after the rain I want to see if there's anything to lift my spirits Dry the tears and give me everything's been lost The tree frogs are calling across the pond My daughter's kayak sounds like a war drum as she blazes to shore Still, I can only… Continue reading On Rainbow Chard After Rain
Over the long holiday weekend, I gave two orchard walk/ farm tours. The second ended with four of us men standing around a pickup truck talking about all sorts of stuff: if we could grow good reishi mushrooms here, the fact that women can hand-milk cows better than men, how much more expensive organic feed… Continue reading Rooster, Keep Your Head on a Swivel
We spent the night recently in the new suburbs of Fishers, Indiana. I went out in the morning to load our sleeping pads back in the van because we were leaving shortly after breakfast to get home and milk the cows. I noticed the birdsong there, the morning birdsong. It was thin, like ultra-pasteurized skim… Continue reading Morning Birdsong
I was on my way out to the woods, dragging a cart that carried my saw, chaps, fuel mix, bar oil, water, etc. and I checked the grafts that line the path, the pawpaws and the hickories. The hickory grafts are just two weeks old and have only just started breaking through the parafilm. True… Continue reading Where I Ramble About Chainsaw Work And Cutting Up Trees
