“When you’re standing at the cross roads, And don’t know which path to choose, Let me come along, ’cause even if you’re wrong I’ll stand by you” ~ The Pretenders *** Magnolia photo by me. Continue reading Inspiration Interlude: The Pretenders
“There was nothing to do but wait. It is always like this for naturalists, and for poets–the long hours of travel and preparation, and then the longer hours of waiting. All for that one electric, pulse-revving vision when the universe suddenly declares itself.” ― Diane Ackerman, The Moon by Whale Light and Other Adventures Among Bats, Penguins, Crocodilians and Whales *** Image: the lagoon at Audubon Park, New Orleans / Photo by me Continue reading Inspiration Interlude: Diane Ackerman
Cool mist on my face I walk without umbrella to feel nature’s breath *** Continue reading NaPoWriMo 23/30: April
Tropical Wave Late summer. Still, stagnant, a pond surface slick with algae. Hot air, stale breath. Down in the depths something stirs from sleep. Lethargy levitates, collides with wind. A vortex is spawned, wilder than a drunken dragon. *** Prompt via napowrimo.net: This is a catch-up post from the prompt for 4/12/17: Write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration and assonance. Continue reading Napowrimo: Tropical Wave
Stir the Roux When we’ve finished, I’ll turn off the quiet with the music of pot and spoon, metal on metal as flesh on flesh. Stir the roux. Whole peppers, onions, celery stalks I’ll chop into bits of Holy Trinity, the colors of contentment. Stir the Roux. You will be in that space between awareness and drift, the salt of your sweat settling into your skin. Stir the roux. As the gumbo simmers, we’ll watch the earth absorb the sun and the stars will mirror our eyes. Stir the roux. *** Prompt via NaPoWriMo.net: Write a poem using repetition. I … Continue reading NaPoWriMo 8/30: Stir the Roux
Six Views of the Bamboo (After Wallace Stevens) I. The gardner marvels at baby shoots as big as her arm. II. The naturalist enjoys the strength of the canes in the wind. III. The environmentalist appreciates its sustainability. IV. The squirrel is thankful for its nest-baring branches. V. The bird surveys the world from its sky-high peaks. VI. The bamboo sways and sighs. The bamboo just is. *** Prompt via napowrimo.net – “write a poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view.” Continue reading NaPoWriMo 6/30: Six Views of the Bamboo
Country Early summer is a curious child rubbing supple green leaves between her fingers, deeply inhaling spice from a rose, staring dead-on into a dragonfly’s eyes. Early summer is anticipation, rolling in soft pasture grass, purpling fingers with muscadine juice, searching the woods for a maypop vine. Early summer lives in my chest, spreads to my fingertips, ends up on this page. *** Prompt via NaPoWriMo.net: “Write a poem that is based in the natural world.” Continue reading NaPoWriMo 5/30: Country
I began working on a CNF piece a few months ago based on an interaction I had with a woman in the jury lounge when I was called up for Federal jury duty. The first three paragraphs flowed out easily. The next couple came weeks later. Now I can’t stand the thought of going back to work on it at all. There are memories of the aftermath of Katrina interspersed and I just don’t want to think about it. It’s Spring, new beginnings, a time of optimism. The thought of revisiting that time is just abhorrent. Hopefully, this is just … Continue reading Brain Dump
“The sensory misers will inherit the earth, but first they will make it not worth living on. When you consider something like death, after which we may well go out like a candle flame, then it probably won’t matter if we try too hard, are awkward sometimes, care for one another too deeply, are excessively curious about nature, are too open to experience, enjoy a nonstop expense of the senses in an effort to know life intimately and lovingly.” ― Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses Happy birthday, Diane. Continue reading Inspiration Interlude: Diane Ackerman
