Eliza Daley ~ Wordcraft & Musing on Home & Hope
The wonderful thing about the future is that it does not exist. Yet. It is not given. It is certainly not certain. We can to some extent predict what might be, but we don't know that it will be. And given the oceans of unknowing that we know about and the near infinity that we… Continue reading Where to Begin…
Paul Bunyan statue in Bangor, Maine. (Wikipedia) It’s that special day in June again. No, not that solstice thing. No, forget graduation. No, not the wedding thing. It’s Paul Bunyan Day! A day to celebrate an absolute idiot who blundered through the north woods, wearing plaid flannel, leading a cow named Babe, and wielding an… Continue reading Paul Bunyan Day
Thomas Bloom was a professor. Business. He was not remarkable looking, talking, feeling, or thinking. The only remarkableness about Tom was an enormous lack of remarkableness. Bored freshmen amused themselves by pretending this apparent unremarkability constituted a cover for a secret identity of intrigue. Only for amusement. Could they have entered his mind, they would… Continue reading A Love Story for Bloomsday
A Full Moon Tale for the Strawberry Moon There’s a layer of ash visible high in the walls of the arroyo. It lenses in and out, thickening and thinning, breaking into eerie grey smiles in the upper bank face. It is not old. Bright plastic riddles the layers underneath this ash like malignant confetti and… Continue reading Arroyo Strawberries: Winifred Mumbles
Turn your head and squint at the stories you’ve been told and you may see the traces. Delicate razor-thin reminders. Forgotten runes etched deep into memory. Ghostly echoes inherited through the ages. We know what we do not remember, what we have disregarded until the capacity to see is lost. But it is still there,… Continue reading Palimpsest
They came for me as I was grinding the last of the roasted spelt. My sisters stood by with downcast eyes. I did not know who of them believed in my innocence. I found that I was troubled by this. I would go to my death willingly, but I was unwilling to let the ravenous… Continue reading Immolation
Sunrise over the Cerro Pelado Fire, Jemez Caldera, New Mexico opening day’s eye pierces dawn shredding fragile cloud with sun daggers rising light enlivening early lizards on red rocks warming creosote bush scent and following the dipping dance of the hummingbird salt cedars stand sentinel through the drought in spectral rivers of sand where the… Continue reading caldera summer sunrise
new leaves in the arbor here is a seed my soul-gift to the future a self i cannot know but in dreams and divination yet though I cannot see certain am i hope spreads roots in this soil here lives joy abundance great care in this mattering nature dwells nurturing spirit no, no divide is… Continue reading planting
Born Again (Nacer de Nuevo) by Remedios Varo (1960) she is breaching reaching through rent flesh for hearth sense brushing past grasping cilia and bleached branches deserting the void-dark garden of ghosts coming into the clotted intimacy of small spaces penetrating deep the root-riddled walls of womanhood she is suffused with maiden’s hopeful lust one… Continue reading coming through wisdom
I closed the shop early. No point to staying open in this storm. If anyone were foolhardy enough to venture out, I’d not want to sell books that would likely only get ruined on the walk back home. But there were no people, nobody dashing from one shop to the next, nobody walking the dog… Continue reading The Man in the Moon
By My Solitary Hearth 