A Journal of the Plague Year: #6

This morning (upon waking? in the shower? during meditation, while Sam Harris spoke to me about conscious awareness? over breakfast?), I found myself thinking Thoreau. Passages from Walden were emerging from the memory banks where favorite books are stored. It occurred to me that if one were to grab a classic from American Literature off the shelfContinue reading “A Journal of the Plague Year: #6”

#345: According to This Map

I have lived for a long time now in the country of Autumn, ruminating in the mountains near the capital city of Change, trying to see my way back into Summer. I know I’m going to hike my way through Somewhere on my way over the Plains of Solitude, and I may have to takeContinue reading “#345: According to This Map”

#269: A Letter of Gratitude to My Wife and Son (another prose poem)

Dear family, I am about to begin my journey home. Almost everything is put away and the trailer is hitched up (I never did unhitch); all I have to do now is climb in and start up the engine. It was a good trip. Even though I was with my brother and his friends, I spentContinue reading “#269: A Letter of Gratitude to My Wife and Son (another prose poem)”

#188: On A Birthday Weekend Alone

  “Why should I feel lonely? is not our planet in the Milky Way?”—Henry David Thoreau My brother asked me through a facebook comment, are you spending the weekend alone? And I wasn’t sure what the question meant, whether or not it contained a sub-text of surprise or dis-belief: really, on your birthday, you wantContinue reading “#188: On A Birthday Weekend Alone”

#186: On Writing Retreat

On Writing Retreat, December 5, 2015, L. L. Stub Stewart State Park, Buxton, Oregon It’s raining so hard here, it would be unthinkable to go outside for a walk. So I am stuck in this cabin without internet access and there’s only a few things to do: listen to music, meditate, read, eat, or, theContinue reading “#186: On Writing Retreat”

A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp 2015

It’s quiet on campus.  Everyone has gone home.  It’s just me and Mark, the dorm all to ourselves.  He’s here still because he can’t travel on the Sabbath.  I’m here to simply take a few deep breaths, to take advantage of some solitude before heading home. I went down to the cafeteria tonight for dinner,Continue reading “A Single Dispatch from Writer’s Camp 2015”

#159: Listening, Drinking, Watching

(a landay/ghazal hybrid) Last night–I stay up late listening: new records spin in the dark and there’s bourbon to sip. A police car pulls in across the street, lights ablaze, I leave my headphones on and watch. I cannot tell what is happening but there is no indication of violence here so I continue listening, watching as theContinue reading “#159: Listening, Drinking, Watching”