Today, Sunday

Today, Sunday, and maybe not so different then last week’s Sunday and the one before and before. Same air, same house, same mountain water edging the roadside down. The corn shocks I stood up in October still stand in the field, and without doubt the turkeys, 15 of them, will shadow the farm’s west side at approximately 10:30 on their daily pass-by going I don’t know where. The habits of life. The pieces of living. The mundanity, the beauty. The absurdity, the transcendence. Continue reading

Watch. 3:29

 

 

Boy With Circles

Round eyes, round face, round cheeks, round head, round arms, round belly, round circles. round fingers, wrists, bracelets, fingernails, knuckles.

Round veins, too.

Notice the arms/hands to the left of the boy. Their limpness. It’s like their owner is sleeping. Or dead even.

Notice the arms and hands holding the boy. They remind me of my mother’s arms Continue reading

Story of Four Fishes

http://www.gracielaiturbide.org/en/

Because Even a Mere Sentence Seems Impossible These Days

Is it okay to dig one out from the snow?

This one is 7 yrs. old.

——————

BIRD IN THE HOUSE

We had a bird in the house one day last summer, a Ruby-throated hummingbird that darted in through the kitchen door just as we were finishing breakfast. He hovered momentarily above Quetzal’s oatmeal, darted up and bounced off our cookware, and then, in crazed, twisting flight, rebounded over and over against a corner window. There was an immediate breakdown in household order, of course, as each of us felt compelled to do something. We pushed back from the table and stood up, pointed, and Quetzal, in a wonderful display of five-year-old agility, went shrieking in several directions while simultaneously hiding under both arms. Continue reading