I walked into the wild, the high country, a silence, the first to the end of that sky canyon, no sight of human tracks before me on the last of the great snow embankments. I was held in my steps alongside fields of fallen rock, above hidden torrents. When I arrived, I realized it is […]
I hope to die into my own life, surrender to all its pain and pleasures so deep and real as to move easy, mist on water, a leaf in wind, and never speak of it beyond a grateful nod to the universe. Having struggled with dispossession for so long, then, by my stars, reaching a […]
With notion shorn from the hide of stark presence, preened into the spinning wheel of poetry, a verse woven of the slow mind, the eye of the whole soul, offered to the shivering and destitute part of me, you, we cloak ourselves in the love of one day’s worth of revelation, of a simple reckoning […]
The willow tree is dying, and I, so of myself, would ask what I might do to save it. As if a tree should not be seen as glory laid so low in western winds, so slow to loosen at the root, opening to the sky, returning to the earth. The host of shade and […]
October sharpens sunlight to a glint and obliges the eye to longer shadows. There is fire in the death of things and I am dry as dread. The hailstorms of August stripped chokecherry and currant bare of fruit. An injured deer is stalked by two young coyote. The liquored old man that lives across the […]
Field Notes on Faith and the First World
Exploring depths previously unsounded in oneself, as best one may.
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
Supporting ways of being that are life-giving and sustainable for people, communities and the planet.
Believes everyone has a story to tell.
James Scott Smith 