Cutthroat Palate

In the late summer heat of wide-open Montana, amid the upper reaches of the Judith Basin, the grass has dried, water – from the higher elevations, some 40 miles away and 3,000 feet higher – is running, slower and clear; and at it’s lowest ebb. From the mid-day to the near-evening, the sun bakes everything … More Cutthroat Palate

Sankali

Nothing moved. Not sound. Not time. Not my mind. Everything was in lock-step frame. Only my eyes were in motion. But not real motion; scanning, perceiving, transmitting. They were only in a primal recording mode. Time – and everything in its being – was on hold. Three months earlier I had set out across the … More Sankali

Pileated Woodpecker Morning

The Pileated Woodpecker Morning The sound blasting through the near sunrise morning was like that of a staccato drilling machine, one would imagine coming from a pneumatic wooden hammer slamming into the thud of wood-on-wood. “Thrud-d-d-d-d-d-d-d  Thrud-d-d-d-d-d-d-d   Thrud-d-d-d-d-d-d-d.”  Pause, then repeat again. Several times. Then a longer pause. Only to start again, repeating the cycle. … More Pileated Woodpecker Morning

Orchard Silk

Dancing to the tune of a distant reggae beat, decades in the knowing and timeless in it’s soothe. The spider felt the line below it’s tiny feet tremble. The movement of her ‘line’ was her alert signal that the pantry was being stocked. But this movement was different. It carried a different message. Her brain … More Orchard Silk

Papa’s 2-Toned Wet

“Papa said Jesus did His best work when He reached down, under-the-water’s-surface and pulled a person up. They were drowning. They’d already give’in to the idea they were gonna die. They’re workable. That’s the kinda house I lived in: Papa’s 2-Toned Wet. Papa said when Jesus tried to work with people on top of the … More Papa’s 2-Toned Wet