Durham has a lot of good things about it, but a good independent radio station is not one of them. And so I spend my days in the kitchen listening to classic rock and hold the distinction of being the only one in the kitchen for whom the songs were my soundtrack for high school…

I only saw the words written,requiring me to infer tone;to assume either compassionor conceit; to decide if the poetmimed quotation marks whenhe said, “diminished capacity,” —or saints, for that matter —if he even said the words out loud. Either way, the phrase isfragrant with failure, infusedwith what might have been,what came and went,what once was…

I know I’ve already mentioned Woody Guthrie this week, but he comes to mind for me every Independence Day because he wrote my favorite song about America, “This Land is Your Land.” He actually wrote the song in response to “God Bless America.” Here is one of my favorite covers of the song by Bruce…

“It’s what’s inside the words,” she said;“Inside heart there’s an ear and there’s art.” After reading, I couldn’t help but lookfor words among the bread and vegetablesthat made up our simple supper last night,both of us finally home after daysthat felt longer than the time passed.I couldn’t find God in the green beans,or love in…

The words are Woody Guthrie’s; the voice is Ellis Paul’s. I pass them both along to you with gratitude. I didn’t promise you skies painted bluenot all colored flowers all your days throughI didn’t promise you sun with no rainjoys without sorrows, peace without pain All that I promise is strength for this day,rest for…

These are days that call for me to reflect, to hold my words and thoughts close, to share with those I can see in person, to let things ruminate and mature before they become public. There is no major crisis, no depression (thank God), nothing more than days that call me to listen more than…

there are days where lifeseems to stretch out like agreat plain, endless expansemelting into the horizon this is not one of those days today is a fresh amputeecut down to a stump of sadnessthe expected assassinatedwhile we slept and awakened to the now and the not here let us cling to each otherlike refugees like…

One of my favorites: “They say that these are not the best of times, but they’re the only times I’ve ever known . . .” Peace,Milton

Ginger and I have spent today unpacking. Yes, I know we’ve been in Durham for a year and a half, and in our house for over a year. But we’ve had a stack of boxes sitting in the shed in the back yard all that time waiting for us to make room: boxes of books…

If you were speaking in parablesthis afternoon, would you still talkabout seeds and birds and trees? You see, what we know of farmingare supermarket shelves of Costa Ricanbananas and Peruvian asparagus; a flower box of basil in the yard,summer trips to the farmer’s market.(Why is it so expensive?) In our world of uniform tomatoes,our apples…