Every Good Morning

The dread is with me every morning and sets more deeply into me each day of what I think of as slippage towards an apocalyptic time to come.  My imagination plagues me. My imagination wakes me up, and at 3 or 4 in the morning I conjure visions of what this country has done to itself and how much worse it will become. I do not know how to shut […]

Joe Pye Weed grows to eight feet and spans a distance in its blooms the length of my outstretched arms. The rain and heat of these months have made it the richest spot for butterflies we have ever seen here: Buckeyes, Swallowtails Tiger and Black, Eastern Tailed Blues, Hummingbird Moths, Pearl Crescents and Monarchs. We cannot count them, there are so many, and they move from bloom to bloom to […]

Driving slowly on back roads nearing Crow’s Nest while listening to dead poets read their poems trying so hard to push their words through all that space and time and into me, driving so slowly a brown thrasher curved out of brush and across my windshield, his markings catching red in the afternoon sun. Running the dogs in and out of cornfields, sparrows rising up in threes and fours from scrub. Walking the margins […]

The fascist heart is unsettled and isolated, uncertain and yearning for certainties. It longs for a tribe to which it can pledge its allegiance. It does not wish to think. It revels in slogans. It only wishes to feel. Emotion is right, especially among others who feel the same way. It wants to submerge itself in a tribe. The fascist heart is nostalgically utopian and mourns the loss of a […]