the sugar-cone ghost and the freedom of not having possesions

Iโ€™m moving. Iโ€™m leaving my one-bedroom apartment (which was never really mine, which was, in retrospect, just a beautiful, palatial hole in which to dump wheelbarrow-loads of money that I will never see again) and Iโ€™m moving into a sixteen-foot travel trailer that I bought off the internet. I am poor again, and also recently … Continue reading the sugar-cone ghost and the freedom of not having possesions

backpacking

Summer was cancelled west of the cascade mountains, so we drove east into the desert, to where ponderosa pines stood tall in the yellow sunlight and clear rivers, flat and deep, wound their way through the soft ground. But thunderstorms followed us over the hills, and we camped in a torrential downpour the first night, … Continue reading backpacking

s u n d a y

Overcast, warm unless the air is moving, reading Anne Carson, I went running in the forest, in my old running shoes, that need replacing, on the narrow dirt path, squishy with mud. Finn and I, and the small dogs, like squirrels, out of place, which would wink out of existence, immediately, if western civilization were … Continue reading s u n d a y