The Limnologist
For Katey Walters She conjures forth bubbles of fire from frozen lakes. I heard it on the radio, circling the dark lanes of a parking deck. A big blue Suburban nearly backed into me as... More »
For Katey Walters She conjures forth bubbles of fire from frozen lakes. I heard it on the radio, circling the dark lanes of a parking deck. A big blue Suburban nearly backed into me as... More »
Song The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction the weight, the weight we carry is love. Who can deny? In dreams it touches the body,... More »
Wild, Wild This is what love is: the dry rose bush the gardener, in his pruning, missed suddenly bursts into bloom. A madness of delight, an obsession. A holy gift, certainly. But often, alas, improbable.... More »
What kinds of words might the kudzu whisper to the magnolia branches as it overtakes them? I imagine them to be syllables of consolation and care, spoken with tenderness despite the encroachment of vine... More »
I always say I'm going to write gratitude lists. Sometimes I do, but not that often. I've never written them every single day. The days when I do take the time to write them,... More »
(inspired in part by Jeannie's answer.) My family. Their humor, kindness, and intelligent sweetness is always nourishing. The way the view from my deck always changes. My mother called it the portal. It shifts from... More »
Prayer and love are learned in the hour when prayer becomes impossible and the heart has turned to stone. --Thomas Merton
Today's my dad's birthday. He's 73. Tomorrow he's having cataract surgery. Naturally I'm a little concerned but it is pretty routine. I'll call him afterwards. He wouldn't hear of my getting a sub and driving... More »
This.