Category Archives: Poetry


They’re like clockwork against the far bank. Two browns holding down the midge-buffet line. Rise…rise. Count three. Rise…rise. I know how big they are. With every lazy porpoise exposing the immense distance between snout and dorsal, dorsal and tail-tip, they’re telling on themselves. My first cast of this thick southeast Oregon sage and high desert canyon morning slips quietly through the air, closing the gap between their clockwork and the inevitable sound of my reel in retreat.
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Straight from the buffet line

I’m grateful to Marshall Cutchin at Midcurrent for running a piece I wrote (and fantastic image shot by Brett Seng) as a feature this week. The Distance Between.

Have a great weekend, all.
I’m getting on the water.

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Filed under On the water, Poetry, The road


For a minute

hush for one second
I said

hold still
what do you hear
I asked


then off they went


Filed under Fatherhood and venison jerkey, In the woods, On the water, Poetry


Brass on brown paper

juxtaposed with an unlikely six hour jazz session on a straining static and likely below-the-radar bible-belt FM station             and the featureless August midnight blacktop and black backdrop beyond my headlights on route 30 outside of Jonesborough          it’s a lonely straight-through stretch from Little Rock to the Texas border just southwest of Hope

even lonely (maybe because of) the jazz stuck in some recess                 names escape me             quiet incessant soft saxbasspianocornettrumpetsnare lowing               their mellow walk in my mind’s corner             flutter flow flight figure follow satisfied to play and wait             sit-in and play to the empty bar save for the one man in the suit and loose tie           eyes closed and harmonizing with his thin rocks glass and the sad woman in the midnight blue strapless             slow turn and sway and wish             heels on the empty dance floor

the jazz stuck as most all things do           and the road kept on             sunrise caught me somewhere between Hope and the border             I read the sign in its lone star largess                jazz and dawn aching through

the crazy riff of sage and red-eyed 80 miles per hour


Filed under Poetry, The road



look out from the mountain
hear her voice giant and sprawling
a song going on & on
in pine and sky
her inspiration far
closer than her horizon


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Filed under In the woods, Poetry


A closer longview

on the road southeast of Ashton
they climb on my left from a small fistfull
of foothills out my half-open window
standing then swallowed by thick clouds
then standing again
driving thinking 
head & heart ache
as I crest each rise

sometimes my longview’s not so long
sheer immense majesty pulling
the eye closer & closer into its blue
rugged-soft soul the edges
bright but out of focus
for all the reaching & longing I do
I find the shoulder park & get out leaving

the door open a few blinks small headshake & breath
a look at my boots as knowingly worn & askew
as my stance is unknowingly purposeful
full silentness in gravel cooling-engine-ping
winter-into-spring brown grass pinestands
Tetons clouds brushstroke of an eagle’s forever-
sudden flight here now

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Filed under Poetry, The road