Thursday, December 21, 2017
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Sometimes a Place is a Poem 2 (more photographic evidence)
Photos from a wildlife tracking weekend in Vantage, Washington.
Coyote scat featuring the fruit of the Russian olive (Elaeagnus angustifolia).
Frenchman Coulee (Courtesy of the Missoula Floods).
Basalt.
Falls.
Plant.
Uric acid=wood rat.
Woodrat latrine.
Woodrat scat.
Desert flower.
Mantis egg sack.
Frenchman Coulee.
Trackers.
A vantage in Vantage.
Hooves in the ash.
Hooves in the ash (#2).
Sunset.
The calm before the storm.
Geese at dusk.
Geese at dusk (#2)
At 2 AM I needed to pee.
The morning after.
Geese at dawn.
Tracking in snow.
Landscape.
Landscape (#2).
Tracking.
Elk scat.
Elk bed.
Elk tracks.
Trailing.
Elk tracks with dew claws registering.
There are elk in them hills! Can you see them?
Backtracking.
Wild turkey?
At the cliff's edge.
Bighorn.
Bighorn (#2)
Bighorn (#3)
Bighorn #4
Bighorn #5
Cozy.
Friday, October 13, 2017
Dear You (Two Fragments from Sappho)
Fragment 31
He seems to me equal to gods that man
whoever he is who opposite you
sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking
and lovely laughing-oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
is left in me
no: tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears
and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, green than grass
I am and dead-or almost
I seem to me.
But all is to be dared, because even a person of poverty
Fragment 38
you burn me
Translated by Anne Carson
He seems to me equal to gods that man
whoever he is who opposite you
sits and listens close
to your sweet speaking
and lovely laughing-oh it
puts the heart in my chest on wings
for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking
is left in me
no: tongue breaks and thin
fire is racing under skin
and in eyes no sight and drumming
fills ears
and cold sweat holds me and shaking
grips me all, green than grass
I am and dead-or almost
I seem to me.
But all is to be dared, because even a person of poverty
Fragment 38
you burn me
Translated by Anne Carson
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Sometimes a Place is a Poem 1 (photographic evidence)
This is part one of what I plan on being two parts about the time I spent at the Oregon Dunes last weekend. For context, I am currently enrolled in ten month wildlife tracking intensive. These photos come from our second weekend session.
Lichen.
A horse with no name.
South Tree Island.
Just...
...a bunch of nerds...
...gettin' nerdy.
The PNW Scarab? Nope, a Golden Bupestrid (Cypriasis aurulenta).
PNW Desert Nomads 1.
PNW Nomads 2.
The endless sky.
Learning about gaits.
Flower of the desert.
Frogs.
Coyote (and humans).
Domestic dog (larger) and coyote.
Just some worms being weird.
Domestic cat.
Sometimes life is dots and dashes.
Frog.
Porcupine.
Porcupine (this time with pad texture and hair marks).
Self Portrait 1
Raccoon.
Crow.
Tracks is stories.
Let them eat crow.
Dead crow.
When a dune gets hungry, it may eat a tree.
Proof.
More proof.
Tunnel of love (lost).
Under the boardwalk...
...people walkin' above.
Life's a beach and then you die.
October Sunburns (Self Portrait 2)
Tall (Shadow 1)
Taller (Shadow 2)
Tallest (Shadow 3)
The final blaze...
...before slumber.
Dawn.
First light. (PNW Nomads 3).
Porcupine.
Blurry killdeer.
Blurry frog.
Blurry blackbear.
Measuring coyotes.
Following coyotes.
Still following coyotes.
Coyote dig.
Dear coyote, stop and take a rest.
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