Dogslandia

Last night I heard the toads again, their song Like tiny bells of darkness, little birds That lost their wings but did no wrong They clam...

Butterflies know the scent of one species Pipevine Swallowtail seeks the Dutchman's Pipe Bassooning bloom and heart-shaped leaves Tha...

However much we love to talk of history It is a mythical irrelevance to birds and trees What memory in wood rings tell the story Of gro...

We speak of death in the bones of a man But I think of death as a fungal thing I know my age in my joints in the morning I feel it in ...

So, who fertilizes forests? Forests. The leaves fall, rot - short-lived flowers bloom make seed and die and creatures live entombed wit...

Come out, come out, and stand with me in twilight Look to the south and to the east and to the storm Witness the way the setting sun paint...

Upon the tile, in dust, it caught my eye I held the tiny mace aloft, and thought no worse Then I knew a rodent's paw mold and dry I f...

Digging up the weeds below the water spout I found A single relic of a former gardener's memories A piece of trash, to me, because t...

A Tribe is just another word for story These metaphors and allegories wrap Around a common sense of place and glory We pick the signs and...

If life is just a dream and we the dreamers Then butterflies are souls and frogs are bards And any moment we could find these sleepers Tr...

Everybody wants to change the world I'm just happy if I change a single day For someone else, who feels the fray Where the black sire...

When I think of Texas, all I see are highways Interchanges, bridges from the sky from vein to vein to wide lanes, six, eight or even twelv...

And this is how to make a loaf of bread Begin with patience, time, an oven, flour Water, salt, and yeast. A sturdy bowl, to knead Put eve...

I never talk about the work; I do it Make the work, make the art, hold it tight Inside my head so that I have no outlet but to make the w...