Maps are approximations

Man sketches Earth: Earth bears us up, draws us down Man gives names to things, to own: “Elliot Bay.” “Mercer Island.” The land and the water meet where the people come, But the land needs no name.

Song for summer

The morning is damp Constellation of birdsong Punctuation by frog, by crow The Earth bends on itself and we grab hold: our feet to the sky, hair to the ground, stomachs in our chest There is surf, seagulls, the sound… Read More ›


Paper soul, face soft as a coin’s on its back, on the pavement Looking out the world from the inside of a jar: We are touching but can’t see, can’t hear, just waiting to be exchanged at face value.