Ten Years When the mind is clearand the surface of the now still,now swaying water slaps againstthe rolling kayak, I find myself near darkness,paddling again to Yellow Island. Every spring wildflowerscover the grey… Continue reading
The Thing Is to love life, to love it evenwhen you have no stomach for itand everything you’ve held dearcrumbles like burnt paper in your hands,your throat filled with the silt of it.When… Continue reading