Writing
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Bibliographing: A Petition For Belonging
There is a story about Picasso that goes like this… Someone is introduced to Picasso and wishes to buy a drawing. He takes up a pencil, draws out a flower and hands it to the...
Hungering Only For Meat: The Raspberry, The Gem, The Fat, The Trickster
Faithfully the green in my garden is waning and the dry and the brown are making their way. An astonishing thing to say is that I have raspberries in my yard in New York City,...
The Distance In Between Is So Vast: On Phytoplankton, Proximity and The Ecology of Change
Such is the unseen world. In the beginning, the ammonia saturated orange sky covered the deep green methane sea. Neither could have been beheld by any eyes. Eyes hadn’t been made yet. They could not...
Thus Spake Sila: The Sun Rises Once Again In Greenland
In Greenland the sun goes down in about mid October and rose just a few weeks ago. I’ve never been to Greenland but I’ve known a few folks who have spent time there and have...
On Cilantro and Grief: Forbearance In The Presence Of The Bruise
Cilantro has a fascinating ancient pedigree. The seed. The leaf. The root. It is all edible and some people love it. Obviously some people are neutral about coriander/cilantro. And some people are deeply disturbed by...
On Dice, Death, and Endings: The Whispering To The Old Gods of Chance and Fate
Knowing what the last two years have been like it is no wonder that while some folks are profoundly hopeful that “it’ll all be better” others are more reticent and one person who I know...
No Hats: The Prayer Of The Virgin Condor
This is a very broad generalization about sports but I’ll say it anyway. Sports where there are hats involved are more explicitly about control of your opponent than the free flow of play. This is...
The Pure Chestnut: The Grammar of the Gone
This isn’t a story about the American Chestnut. In the world over but very broadly in the Northern hemisphere there is a persistent mythical understanding of a World Tree. An Axis Mundi. A Tree of...
Beset By Mystery: The Wiffle Ball
So often I write about indigenous people or a traditional cultural pathway. But the other day I saw a few minutes of a baseball game and I haven’t watched baseball in years. I used to...
We Are The Stars Which Sing
The Schoodic Peninsula in Maine comes from the Passamaquoddy Indian word ‘skut-auke’ meaning ‘place of the fire’ or ‘land that has been burned’. Whether this was a place that was the origin of their fire...
