I love poetry because it can open spaces inside me that are so hidden I might not know they are there. A word, a line, a rhyme can cast a light on something that could make me think, why have I been so oblivious to that?… Continue reading
Artifacts By Helena Minton Shuyak Island, Alaska Wind blows from the mainland across the Straits over nettle-covered middens where I’ve dug for Aleut arrowheads, unearthing fish bones, clam shells, human teeth. Tribes slept near these hills and in daylight told of omens dreamed as elk of schools of spawning salmon. Trout broach, eagles circle overhead yet never enter my sleep.… Continue reading
If it weren’t for the extreme fire hazard warning, I’d wax poetic about the summer right now. The green apples on the branches, the delicate butterflies flitting over the lavender, the breeze rustling the leaves of the birch and poplars.… Continue reading
Bread inspiration comes from many places. I used to dream of bread, squishing dough between my fingers or tossing it into the air and catching it, feeling its weight and texture before tossing it up again, light as air.
It was common in these dreams for loaves to be rising in the background while other things were happening, looking out at the ocean, having an argument with someone, or having a kiss.… Continue reading
Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout By Gary Snyder Down valley a smoke haze Three days heat, after five days rain Pitch glows on the fir-cones Across rocks and meadows Swarms of new flies. I cannot remember things I once read A few friends, but they are in cities.… Continue reading