Stinkhorns. Sort of spooky and surprising in the landscape. As one website puts it, “It ‘hatches.’ It smells like death. Some have a questionable shape.
write 31 days: dreamscape – day 20
shadow of spring In the first place, dates aren’t solid. One March 20 is not another March 20, though all are the vernal equinox somewhere.
write 31 days: dreamscape – day 15
dreampoem: the words, engraved Well, it’s 6 a.m. here in New Hampshire and I’m in Paris, again. My small group has just arrived. I’m among throngs
write 31 days: dreamscape – day 14
Some landscapes are dreamy because they’re washed with a patina of age, nostalgia, romance, simplicity, simple magic. Some evoke carefree sunlit childhood days or moonlit
write 31 days: dreamscape – day 13
the light enduring It hardly bears saying that my life is dreamed. What else could it be, the puddling of moments that flash like
write 31 days: dreamscape – day 11
why, like Roethke, I take my waking slow Waking means doing things. It means waiting, which means impatience, everything takes too long, and then it’s