What does it mean to make art in the boonies, pore long over sentences that never scale the muckety-muck steps of public attention? How does one who loves the civic beauty of words keep forking them onto the floor? [Read More]
Evergreen Testament
Suddenly I feel like I’m standing on sacred ground. My sense of kinship with the place expands in the company of cedars, some large enough to barely get my arms around. I press my palms against the taut skin of their trunks. I revel in the scent of sprigs picked up from earth their kind have nourished for lifetimes.