With the movie Barbie making changes in people's minds, their understanding of feminism/sexism/racism etc., and their understanding of who can make great movies (Congrats, Greta Gerwig), I thought I'd pull out a piece posted seven years ago, dust it off, and post it again. Here's to Barbie! Some 20 years ago when it first showed... Continue Reading →
Has the world always been in overfire? Like my wood stove after I stoke it with well-seasoned cedar and pine, hefty logs on top of crisp sheaths of aspen kindling. I pile those atop a foundation of twigs that I obsessively collect from my yard throughout the year. The girls hated when I shouted 'pine... Continue Reading →
The girls were asked this question quite often by their once estranged father. And often, for someone who disappeared to the far corners of the earth, of depression, or both, and surfaced randomly every several months, I suppose, means a few times. And a few times, in the course of the years in which the... Continue Reading →
Pockets. The forest is replete with secrets, the pockets that protect them. Dark hollows full of mystery and intrigue hidden codes, stories. Veracities. Boo Radley gave them great fame. As did Perry Como. Falling stars and all. We love pockets (or is it the secrets)? To carry a surprise. A little bomb of the unknown.... Continue Reading →
I found this on Saturday morning up on the trail that hugs the west side of Mt. Elden. A path I have traveled dozens of times over the years. Suddenly, a swing hanging with tight knots on a sturdy branch of a Ponderosa tree. 'Well, don't mind if I do,' I said to Romeo, and... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 