To Belding the River Flows

Infused rambling in dim-lit aisles, Strange vibrations heaping into piles, I float the river for miles. I say, “We need to float; float that boat, all the way to Belding.” This we did, and with the river, we sing. To an island, we came to be. “Let’s make some chili,” I say. Looking above in…

The Creek Behind the School

I grew up in Claypool Indiana, a small farm town covered on all sides by cornfields and small patches of woods. It was a typical small town. The kind of place where everybody knew everybody. There was a good amount of kids in town my age and we always had something to do. Most of…

Winter Trail

I slide on those battered Columbia hikers leaning off the side of my hammock swinging trail side.  The feel of warm wet socks from the day before slipping unwanted inside a frozen shoe. With the crunch of snow and clanging of spikes, like a herd of turtles we go stomping down that trail.  To hell…

Where do the Beavers go?

Lying in a bed of grass, waiting on the unknowing slap of the river. Clouds roll like smoke, drawn to the ringed moon like flies on shit. “This is our river,” one shouts. “It’s not ours, nor the beavers, but we all shit where we sleep,” says the other. Trees sway in a whisper of…

Cranial Poo Prayer

Rain pattered on the broken ceiling drawing Autumn forth like a tidal wave. Dirty dishes shine in the glory of the morning as a mountain rises on the bedroom floor. I have the time, but waste it I do. Eyes flick and flutter through exhausted ripples of something better off in the distance, but I’m…