We can say Black Elk witnessed the death of an indigenous way of life that existed for thousands of years. He did so just as surely as we’re watching death today — from Aleppo to poison pipelines to dead zones off the coast of America…. [Read More]
When I was a child, I imagined angels like the ones in sentimental postcards, those romanticized winged guardians walking alongside a blond, middle-class boy and girl whose aggressive normality rendered them as iconic as their protector. [Read More]
It must seem a strange urge – to work with the dying.
Life is woven with threads from many ancestors.
When sun strikes on a sudden morning
through a frozen fog, the ransom of Autumn lost,
a glory stands in silvered white, a gleam so cold
that now the tree’s breath shines. [Read More]
Some people like to laughingly remind me of a time when I hated football. [Read More]
You are no different than asters that fall dead
in sleep, reemerge each year strong and new. [Read More]
So what happens to a person or group when their identity is wiped from the book of history? [Read More]
There’s a way in which water flows.
It knows where to go without directions,
understands how to travel with ease. [Read More]
It’s that favorite night of some people’s year – the night we turn the clocks back an hour and stop saving the daylight (and so get an “extra hour” of sleep). It’s also almost exactly 3 days until the polls close here in Oregon in the 2016 general election….[Read more]
I had never heard of aerial spraying of pesticides on privately owned timber lands before. I’d been naïve until the coastal town of Wheeler notified its residents late one Friday afternoon, in the early summer of 2014, of a spray scheduled by Stimpson Lumber the following Monday morning. [Read More]
When I was 19, I was a razor. Intense, a zealot, and more than a little crazy. So many people told me the military was for me. [Read More]