Slouching Across Time

Only in loneliness

is there room for truth.

All else flounders.

I live, only to see

the black eyes of age

daring me to advance.

All that was lucid

is soiled

by the inevitable
slouching across time.

Empty Space for Sound

Fitful light flashed across the sky.

The interval of seconds seemed like

quelled rage.

Suddenly the empty space for sound

was filled with the fury of thunder,

as the wind blew across my face,
leaving only a vapid memory of its cool fist.

The Brook

The mirrored eyes of the brook

betrayed the face of the child

while the sunset rested slowly,

replacing the heat of the day.

When night took its rightful place,

the only sound heard

was the wind,
as the rain fell in mocking silence.

Yesterday

The fire of hate burned its way

through his snarl of emotions.

All his years were filled with

tiny shards of contempt,

covering up all memories

of yesterday

and molesting thoughts

of tomorrow.

Just before Sunset: A Walk in the Woods the Day after Christmas - 2013

Alaska from a Small Plane

I just found these photographs I had taken a few years ago when I was doing some grant work in Alaska.  I took them with my iPhone camera as a friend of mine (a licensed pilot) flew me in his plane over this range of mountains.  The silent beauty of Alaska is astonishing . . .

Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Maine (Fall 2013)

Fort Gorges (Off the Coast of Portland, Maine)

Light

Light.  Rectilinear propagation.  By the light of the moon.  Turn out the lights when you leave.  Move the lamp closer to get better light.  You’re standing in my light.  Throw some light on the situation.  In light of this information.  Saw the situation in a different light.  My son is the light of my life.  A room becomes light when the shutters are open.  Light a fire under him.  And sometimes there’s light at the end of the tunnel. 

Light.

Portland, Maine

There are many reasons why we live in Portland, Maine.  These are just nine of them . . .

Roots

I've always been fascinated with and noticed the incredible diversity of roots and the journeys they take in order to survive.  When I think about it, I realize that roots have a lot of responsibility.  They provide anchorage for the tree, storage of critical nutrients, absorption of water and mineral nutrients, and a means of conduction of water and mineral nutrients to the rest of the tree.  Roots are also stubborn—like trying to drag a dog off a meat truck.  They will go virtually anyplace and are only concerned with one thing: survival.  As I have noticed them over the years, photographed them, thought of them, I can't help but respect their diversity, their strength, and their devotion to life.