Category Archives: Daily Offerings

Night The cold remote islands And the blue estuaries Where what breathes, breathes The restless wind of the inlets, And what drinks, drinks The incoming tide; Where shell and weed Wait upon the salt wash of the sea, And the … Continue reading →

Writing on Not Writing I can feel my ship about to come in. A white ship in a snowstorm moving in. The ship is made of gulls huddled together in the shape of a ship. When it arrives, they will … Continue reading →

telling our stories the fox came every evening to my door asking for nothing. my fear trapped me inside, hoping to dismiss her but she sat till morning, waiting. at dawn we would, each of us, rise from our haunches, … Continue reading →

Bad Day Not every day is a good day for the elfin tailor. Some days the stolen cloth reveals what it was made for: a handsome weskit or the jerkin of an elfin sailor. Other days the tailor sees a … Continue reading →

Requiem Today is the perfect day The sky just so clouds moving fast Drops of water on leaves of Russian sage Dog sitting her chin on crossed paws Light streams through branches of locust tree I sit just so at … Continue reading →

Chapter One I love how books begin; those passages that lead us by the hand across the luxurious lawns, that portage us gently up the gravel drive, toward the manor house. The author is still a kind host here, anxious … Continue reading →

Two Friends The last word this one spoke was my name. The last word that one spoke was my name. My two friends had never met. But when they said that last word they spoke to each other. I am … Continue reading →

Poem to Raymond Carver comforter thrown over my legs late morning cats asleep at my feet I am reading a tattered copy of A NEW PATH TO THE WATERFALL you said you wanted this all of your life waking each … Continue reading →

Hope After everything I find it intact like a chimney standing beside a basement jumbled with black and smoking rafters. It is the bubble that rises from a sunken ship as a diver cracks into the wreck. It is the … Continue reading →

Three Foxes by the Edge of the Field at Twilight One ran, her nose to the ground, a rusty shadow neither hunting nor playing. One stood; sat; lay down; stood again. One never moved, except to turn her head a … Continue reading →