walking all day

It is only with a word that I work magic cause fire to spring forth from sodden bottomlands supporting massive towering thick cypress their wooden knees like wooden stalagmites but then these aren’t magic fires as old swampers will tell you they and their shelter all their things having been singed, scorched or outright reduced to ashes these fires you think are magic come with the seasons and with drought and wind but all these words got away from me and it was more than just only with a word and there really was never any magic nor was there never not any magic it all just happened

los vinedos de La Rioja en la nieve near Cirueña, La Rioja, Spain 8 February 2018 Imma call this one “drunk poem” ‘cause I’m drunk off some dark red blood red earthy passion blood red Rioja from Logroño and those grapes the Romans brought those grapes the Romans brought those grapes from Turkey so how can you not help but ferment some blood some earthy (a wine word but the wine that it signifies is too bold and full of dirt to be captured by any kind of word) blood red some earthy passion under heat of the sun of the south of Europe and blown about down to the roots under snow and stress and stress boils the passion the blood red the earthy passion of two millennia and those stressed generations of grape vines stumps covered in snow in winter and glorious green and dark purple globes in earthy abundance of purple stressed by summer’s brutal bestial heat the earthy...

Saturday 3 March 2018 near San Xil, Galicia, Spain one three-story brown brick wall of a machine-housing structure so clear and chaste not built for human habitation so with absence of natural light from the outside and to have seen this and to have captured the lack of humanity within with bare words that scratch at the mind within this scenario lies the always under-lying genius of God

Tybee River taken 3 June 2018 new place on a quiet street with trees behind the new place with trees growing down to a slow creek a slow creek that snakes through neighbor- hoods to a larger creek that snakes like a water moccasin a cotton- mouth through more neighbor- hoods slowly except after torrential rains when the larger creek visits neighboring basements unsecured against roaring water then after calming down after a dry period the larger creek snakes like a water moccasin a cotton- mouth through more less dense neighbor- hoods through more dense trees like the trees behind the new place on a quiet street then the larger creek snakes like a water moccasin a cotton- mouth to a deep river older than everything and this deep river older than everything flows slowly widening through the coa...

near Portomarín, Galicia, Spain taken 5 March 2018 I’ll bend so that I can hear        your soft voice, and I know I will hear the wonders of the        blue universe in that soft voice.   In the sound of dripping        trees just after a heavy rain shower has moved through and        beyond this ancient hemlock forest where life in all of        its dense abundance, aware and palpable in the sweet        and freshened air, I empty the interior of my        world of voices and fix on the natural silence that        echoes with dripping water rhythms, enclosed in living,        breathing ambience filling measureless oceans of space. I hear your soft voice on...

baby’s got the flu but her antibodies have awakened and her youth and brown-eyed vitality will prime her for the new year and on the eve of the new year the rear-view mirror as I drive into the town of Paradise is of carnage and discarded dignities and the loss of what we thought was democracy but the flu season is upon us so no midnight kiss tonight