Everyone I know needs a body cast to get though tonight and all day tomorrow. And that includes me. But let’s change the subject.
…and so on Wednesday in good fall weather they moved all their furniture onto the sidewalk, signed it free, sweep the floors, locked the door, placed the key in the box with a note, a brief note, and then walked, arms free, down to the bus station. Which one, they said, looking up at the possibilities. I know, she said. The one going west. Okay, he said. And so theirs was the bus going west. And now trees slipped by and small goats running, kids painting a door, and later that afternoon a lake, a lake with no boats whatsoever, just blue water, blue water forever. And it seemed a sign, a possibility. It’s where we’re going, she said. Yes, he said. Moving blue water. And they pressed their noses to the window, and their knees touched, and the world was westward and blue. And later into the night now, the bus climbing, working, the two of them neither sure nor unsure, blessed nor unblessed, but bound together with hearts beating and the great unknown. And boughten sandwiches. One each to break together at first light…
For me, the foremost attraction of old-school woodcuts (early 20th c.) is their complete absence of car chases, explosions, copulation, dumb-ass mayhem, and post-modern cliches generally.
Sometimes in good weather after I’ve delivered Quetzal to school, I take the long way home. And often on these drives I pass an elderly man out for his morning walk. He’s close to ninety years, I’d say, bent and a bit shaky, but alert and still active.
This morning when I passed the man, he was standing in the grass just down the hill from his house. Continue reading
Last week in the rains, a frog leaped out from a row of yellow beans I was harvesting and landed directly in my bucket about three feet away. As the bucket was almost full, and as I was on my knees, the frog and I were instantly eye-to-eye and intimate, his eyes showing greenish-yellow, mine maybe grayish-blue. I didn’t say anything, the frog didn’t say anything. And so we became studies for each other, two strangers trying on their Taoist way. Continue reading
Always on a rainy, late Saturday night you can find a photo that surprises. You may have to look over 6,000 to find but one, but still…
A photo by Lorenzo Mittiga. Dona Thud. Dona lives on Bonaire, an island off the coast of Venezuela. At last count she was somewhere into her 90’s.
(Consider clicking on the photo to better appreciate it.)
The white shift, the white hair, the advanced age, and yet the palpable sense Continue reading