Confabulation
That’s not how it happened, and I have the picture to prove it. It’s just that the picture is in my mind.
That’s not how it happened, and I have the picture to prove it. It’s just that the picture is in my mind.
There’s a sound that the early autumn wind makes through the cottonwoods across the way (all dash and whisper and sway) that is the sound of a faraway whistle caught on a thread of unraveling distance from an old coal train heading west; it is the sound of the last of the Canada geese hefting
Cottonwoods of October Read More »
Yesterday, had I been a millionaire able to hire a gardener or two, I — I still would have knelt in the earth and brushed back the crunchy leaves, to see, touch, oh! green shoots of new garlic. Yes, pruned scratchy rose bushes sucked blood from my thorn-stabbed thumb; cut back the lower aspen branches, plucked
Millionaire’s Spring Delight Read More »
Arches carved by nature’s knife Bluebells bursting into life Columbines the bloom of state Deer tracks cloven hooves create Elk herd standing tall with pride Fox pups posting side by side Ghost town eerie without sound Hay bales scattered on the ground Icicles sharp as frozen quills Jagged mountain hiking
The Life of Colorado Read More »
for Gwynne Stolle in loving memory In her garden, as in mine, the earth is let be earth, and flowers grow where flowers will, not where she wills them to. In her garden, as in mine, light falls through the green it’s made, softened, dappling everything below it, even me and the dogs. In her
People remember Charlie Parker Rode into Minton’s on a horse Dressed in overhauls Lip drooping a piece of straw. People remember Charlie Parker Hocking his alto for a fix Living just anywhere Raving out of control down a rainy street. People remember Charlie Parker Worked with the higher extensions Of the chords, worked with strange