Lost on Cold Mountain,

Cliffs, torrents & blasted pines -

I’ve sought for this site.

Rushing to my death

Down a cataract of days

At the speed of breath

Stanza from ‘A Summer’s Dream’ by Elizabeth Bishop

Every night we listened

for a horned owl.

In the horned lamp flame,

the wallpaper glistened.

Chunks of flotsam washed up by the lazy surf of a waking mind:

The collective soul exists. I know because it just rejected my application for admission. Existence is futile! This slogan is meaningless.

Home to multitudes,

Birthing foxes & midges,

Their woods is now logged.

In a loud moment

Breaking waves turn the lake white -

Summer thunder storm.

“

ungainly at first

a great blue heron

rises above the trees

what I’d meant to say

it no longer matters

”
K.A. Martin via twitter

Hot humid Sunday

People locked inside cool rooms

Crows rule earth and sky

back surgery

openmicro:

the weight of wings upon my back
and yet it is they that let me fly

klindbeck:

In warm rain
a blue jay on a blooming tree
a cardinal on the wire

This is the kind of contrast one can feel at the roots of back teeth.

Recollections reflect

Worn tales my mock self tells me -

Polish the mirror

Great gray-blue heron

With water up to thin shins

Glares through at his toes

Thunder and sunshine

It rained off and on all day -

Lazy wet Sunday

From ‘Infinite Jest’ by David Foster Wallace (p. 90)

So huge and bloated, As a woman he induced Sexual despair

sometimesagreatnotion:

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry