snow

old snow

by

  old snow     I’m old enough now to feel the arc of my life rising over the years, the shape of it and the erosion of old certainties beneath. when we’re young we experience ourselves as a point as beings out of time. but I’ve knelt in this cathedral long enough now to … Read more

Ascension

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spring in these mountains is a fibrous season — winter’s age-hardened fingers gripping the land like the hand of a dying man. after every warming day, while the streams run full with the blood of the melt, the moon climbs a constellated sky, and the cold deep of space drops again to harden these hills … Read more