Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Excited Soul

I wonder if my soul gets excited when I walk every morning
Maybe like my dogs get excited, barking and jumping up

And I will tell you why I wonder this...
There is a different light in the mornings and a slow change moves in

As the sun burns away the mist over the fields and creeks,
A different light burns away my bitterness, fear, anxiety

At least, this is where my wondering takes me,
to the Other light..

And somehow after 45 minutes of walking my soul feels lighter
then I feel the worry dissipate and fall to the winter ground behind me

My soul and me are the same, not separate or distinct
Body and soul walking through the woods in one labored breath

Now sitting by the Jeep drinking water and petting Jack and Pig
You know what, it's all a big freakin mystery, y'all go ahead with what you were doing.


world without end

curiously, there has to be more than this
but then again,
this could be renewed


Monday, January 30, 2012


Instead of walking right in to the thing,
take a minute, breathe, have a look around.

This morning I saw three huge doe in the forest.
They didn't seem too afraid when they heard me.

Their gentle lope reminded me of slow motion footage from a nature show
the long flapping cotton like tails standing at attention

Jack and Pig didn't see them, but instead flushed a covey of meadowlarks.
Little brown birds flying in unison darting in waves to the right and left in perfect time

3 miles in the cold up and down the trails till the crows saw me
One crow in a tree saw us and alerted the other crows

They cawed, telling where I was
Messengers determined to make sure everyone knew


Friday, January 27, 2012


Through the screen on my porch
seeing the van Gogh trees of winter
a Mason Jar filled with a deep red Italian wine
a picture
it is more
a moment of still life
a new perception,
more for you,
it is it is.

Oxford Ms

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Even the Silence

The Battle of Little Big Horn National Park is a spooky place.
A Lakota Sioux named Harold drove us there two hours before sundown on a Tuesday

His light green 72 Chevrolet short bed Pick-Up rattled, the engine missed and sputtered at higher speeds
Harold looked like a man in his 50's, I learned later that night he was only 32..tall, thin, dark eyes

He asked if we wanted a drink from his bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag,
I took a sip out of no desire to offend, some kind of home-made wine, more bitter than sweet

We parked by the entrance just as dark clouds came rushing, blanketing the Bitter Roots
Harold stayed by the truck and told us to go ahead, he seemed uneasy and took another swig of his wine.

Grave stones cold and white litter the lonely field
Men and horses buried where they fell

A lone pheasant flushed, his rust colored breast standing out amidst the gray
A coyote yipped over toward the Powder River, a chill ran down the back of my neck

To say this place is haunted would be too simple I think, too easy to say.
It is a strange place with sounds from another world, even the silence laments


Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Big Picture

When someone you know is hurting
and nothing seems to help
take them on a walk in the woods
a silent walk, no talking, no headphones or Ipod, no phone
just the sounds and rhythms of the woods in winter
after an hour or so of walking, perspective may broaden
the big picture might emerge...
but there is no way of knowing for sure.


Sunday, January 15, 2012

Mud Riding

I have heard the saying,"Life is a dance"..
but the person saying it is usually referring to a hard moment in life

Today in the cold winter wind I felt a very sincere warmth
I thought about it later when I made coffee for four

She asked me if I do this often
I said as often as I hear Caliente music which is not very often

Isn't it amazing how well Saltine Crackers improve the taste and texture of many soups
With a half a sleeve in my hunting coat, I walked through the shadows at mid day in the woods

No matter how much you think about something,
mud riding never gets old.


Thursday, January 12, 2012


"As I grew older, I understood that instructions came with this voice, and the instructions were these:Never to lament casually. And if one is to express the great inevitable defeat that awaits us all, it must be done within the strict confines of dignity and beauty." ~Leonard Cohen.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

The Woods

When walking with the dogs through the woods I feel their excitement
I run to keep up through the narrow trails wanting to see what they see

The soft southern winter in these woods makes for strong scents of the animals passing through
Jack darts one way and Pig another, each seeing the image the scent congers in their canine brain

Up ahead among the hard wood and sparse pine I see the white tail flapping clear against the gray and brown
A large doe bounding gracefully through the air as if the ground were a trampoline beneath her

Jack chases for about 3 seconds and realizes he can't fly and it will not work out for him
Pig yips and lets us know she has found a squirrel and would like our attention

We rest by a log for a moment, or, I rest by a log for a moment, they scan the woods
My childhood was spent in Mississippi woods with dogs and my older childhood as well


Wednesday, January 4, 2012

For the Climb

I do not always see what is coming down the road
in fact, I never see what is coming down the road, not till it comes into focus... react, respond, re-read..

Inside the mind of a man there are many questions but answers often dissolve like alka seltzer in the tap water of stray thoughts
Cause one kid will get one answer and another kid will get another one, whether one is truth or not is another thing

I have spoken to three people about the missing Jeep and where it was last seen
So far, still driving the white Chevy that gulps gas instead of drinking it like the other nice vehicles, but that is hurtful

Both dogs were cold this morning as we walked the old train track trail
40 minutes of picking em up and putting em down and wind so cold it made us wince in unison twice

I saw the hindquarters of the largest deer I have seen as it disappeared into the woods, and I mean ever seen
Could have been a mule except that it wasn't a mule, it was a White Tail big ass Mississippi Deer!

Three guys running by us on the trail made me colder watching them from the woods we darted into so the dogs wouldn't chase
They were dressed like it was 90 instead of 20, running like a cold devil from hell was chasing them

I believe life is a wonderful thing and should be lived with great compassion, abandon, honesty, and focus
1 should give all one has to leaving behind things needing left while firmly gripping the rope thrown down for the treacherous climb


Tuesday, January 3, 2012

We laughed

nothing is as the slow sun rising in winter, pastel light fading in like the opening of Gorecki's Symphony Number 3
viewed through the frozen limbs of the oak and pecan trees revealing shape, design, patterns.

at 5:00 I walked out an checked on one of our cats who insists on living in the shed now where we have made her a haven
cat bed on old chair with blankets and a space heater for the frigid nights, water bowl, food, and freedom, she was fine and purred as I rubbed her head

Black Coffee with Cinnamon in my Pablo mug made from the Yocona Mississippi clay just 6 miles from here, the Potter from Spain
He wore leather boots like something Davy Crockett might have worn with leather straps dangling from around his knees, be like Pablo..

Pablo looks like an actor from a Fellini film, not just an actor, but the star of a Fellini film, a humble man who works harder than anyone I know
I found two books by Guy de la Valdene at Square Books and was facing at the register when Pablo stuck his finger in my side, "Give me all your money!"

I told him it would not take long and we laughed.


Monday, January 2, 2012

Why Not?

I thought I had nothing to say this time but here is a collection of words:
sometimes the sound of leaves crunching beneath my boots in the winter dawn stirs my soul

The Deer know when to hide and when to be seen much like some people you know
Farther on down the line walking on a trail through the east section, the wind howling, 31 degrees.

I am not sure of anything except that I am not sure of anything, along with the the taste of garlic and olive oil
The stew is in the crock pot, i call it "Continuation Stew", it began as beef stew two days ago, now it has lentils and Andouille

One carton of organic Beef Broth with one purple onion diced, a full flower of garlic, Olive oil, salt, pepper, cayenne, carrots..
the rue from last night, garlic salt, black eyed peas for the New Year, Yukon Gold potatoes,Guinness..chunks of sirloin.

Hemingway captured seasons well, but Rick Bass's journal, "Winter"is my choice for the cold days ahead.
Faulkner loved Paris and Paris loved Faulkner....I heard they love Larry Brown too..I wonder if Larry ever went to Paris.

I am surrounded by happiness and it is beginning to seep through the cracks of my melancholy, filling me with light
A new year to be new..to laugh harder.,to help..to forgive..to release..to step closer to the sweet mystery of Sweet Detachment

why not?