“I think that love must be the ability to suspend one’s intelligence for the sake of everything. At the basis of love therefore must live imagination.” — James Alan McPherson
We’re back with another bucket full of fresh clean water hauled up from a deep dark well.
“Grief dares us to love once more.” — Terry Tempest Williams
4.16.26
the heart of the creek
is the mind of the bank
the mind of the moon
is the map of the shore
4.17.26
i’m sure i biked by a dead porcupine
on the side of the road
at the bottom of kelly canyon
i turn back to investigate the scene:
an upturned potted plant
discarded on the road
seared stems
sharp as quills
stick with me
4.18.26
mom can’t help but pull weeds
as the two young boys
rally on training wheels
across fresh blacktop
a robin sings
its spring song
sung deeply as seeds
sprung from snowmelt
4.19.26
we have another shot at it!
a vow to simply try
try, simply
bringing light where it wasn’t
keeping it where it was
believing in just enough
4.20.26
these surrogate voices
are metal minds
made of earthly extractions
speaking unspoken words
of voiceless prompters
so that our language
our language of humanity
beats cold and bloodless
for efficiency’s sake
there are still trees
there are still rivers
there are still birds
there is still life
yelling to be lived
4.21.26
as i run upstream
a headwind bears down
on me in a canyon
called bear trap
as i run upstream
a heron leaps into flight
and in unison we fly
up canyon
as i run upstream
a bald eagle catches
the tailwind
down canyon
as i run upstream
aerial ancestry
eagle and heron
at the sky junction
as i stop running
i am centered
in between wings
4.22.26
a great world
in freefall
carefully caught
by a robin
singing spring
in the garden
of her heart
4.23.26
all my gods call
the mad valley
home
↓ momentum ↓
“The mind of the honeybee
is the map of the bloom.”
— Wendell Berry
love,
g