Echo II

I wait for moon to die below black and jagged pines as I lay my aging body down on terra firma, my faith, my dream, the grand mystery, in and above all that is. I have no fear of night, for it is day without light, when all that is green suckles in dew and loon turns beak beneath wing, and wolf […]


I can be a man of melancholy and mirth. I believe, this condition, a symbiosis of uncultivated contraries, and for reasons outside of reason, is native to the ancient echoes of wolves and loons lamenting to a dusky moon somewhere in the northern sphere of water, rocks and trees. It is a grief and it is a […]