Saturday, July 27, 2013

Zoë's Find

Yup, there he is. All coiled and politely warning all passersby that he is not happy; no, not at all. Kids found him and had a bit of a time keeping silly Zoë from harassing him into striking.
Long story short, he was too close to home and had to be culled from the herd, ending up in the skillet. Not a task to be taken lightly no matter the species or temperature of blood, he fell swiftly to a .38 shot shell. Better he than my children or their dogs.
A bit of red wine and butter, a coating of salt and flour, and a little searing heat went far in creating a little treat of the creature. Enjoyed and respected by all, if his brothers find themselves in the same area, he serves warning that they might find themselves digested into the same circles of life...

Thursday, July 25, 2013


Long summer day. Hot and dry, but things are changing and clouds are forming...

Sunday, July 21, 2013

A bit of a fire above Spring City..

An ash just landed in my hand as I was sitting here at the cabin about six miles away from the fire that started just a couple of hours ago.

For the July Reading, Today

An act of volition
subsumed in a translucent, viscous relationship,
a love begetting futures like honey 
in a tree-trunk hive.
Altogether a brightening morn with dew moist grass,
sky promising rain to those flowers 
from whence comes the love of honey 
every long day.

As such, the emotional connection is a fluid promise
between communities of two, three, four, and so many more than 
as children of the mind and sea,
heart and valley,
belly and massif,
soul and gorge.
Repetitive and underground in the midst of a prototype global economy,
parasitic, predatory, socially scientific;
fissures naturally swell in the doors of perception 
as sinewy, ravenous rakes sweat out the harvest again.

Thanks again to a future begotten
in a tree hive with blackening storm clouds
closing fast,
loam and gut digesting the verge as do male and female in their own way;
Crest and trough, 
Peak and valley 
the snapping beak and shrewd eye of a raptor sweeping that same harvest field
near to the tree
where the bees make their honey 
and we plan that they will for a long while  yet.

Friday, July 12, 2013


One hundred and ninety six years ago, the author of Walden, friend and pupil to Ralph Waldo Emerson, and fellow ideologue and spiritual cousin of Walt Whitman, Henry David Thoreau was born in Concord, Massachusetts.
Truly a man with a mission.