The shape of The Shale Basin, soon to be wintered, shading the bed of the Puget Sound, etching, at anchor, an orbit in the near-frozen water, caught between kelp and canopy of cloud. Low, early December sunlight casting long shadows, shafting the surface; an ever-complicated dance. Slow repetition, return and feign of … Continue reading The Shale Basin.
The middle brother was a sleepwalker. He could be found surrounded by quarter eaten easter eggs, or marooned on an ocean of ripped wrapping paper. We camped the wild garden at the cliff edge. Tarp strung between beech trees, and he, ankle-strapped to me. One xmas morning, Santa and then, somehow, mother, found him … Continue reading Framed.
the glassy stranger, front of stage, growing thin; conjure, silence, from the barber a handkerchief, a rabbit shape, an anecdote, a fringe.
nickreeves 