lenten journal: between noon and three

palm reader I’ve been staring at my palm: the little litany of lines that runs from wrist to thumb, the deep-rutted roads like poorly-planned highways across a desert of aging skin— dry riverbeds: canyons carved by age and action, crossed and connected by the lesser lines, faded reminders of days when dreams roamed these valleys…

the space between our sufferings this is one of those nights when the day has been long and I’m looking for words in a blank book of an evening because I promised I would have something to say I promised to meet you here I have riffled through the pages of my memory hoping a…

I opened my laptop this evening to the news that W. S. Merwin died yesterday. He was a prolific and powerful poet whose words have left their mark on my life. I am going to use this page to share some of those with you. My first introduction to him was “For the Anniversary of…

I am fortunate to be driving across Texas just as the bluebonnets are blooming. Here’s where they took me. among the wildflowers the old pickup rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the two-lane road the gravel spoke underneath the worn boots of the workmen who walked to the front of the truck that…