Monday, 9 April 2012


He eyes me suspiciously from the path, fearful I will steal his worm.
He tosses it around for a moment then gobbles it down with a swift flick of his head.


  1. Nice observation.

  2. Lovely small stone--I'm a stoner too..:) Nice to meet you through A to Z!

  3. reading robert bly lately, what have i ever lost by dying, i have wondered on the attempt to remove the infused human element from the poem. tonight after dinner we stopped in the rain at a bridge we infrequently see, off the beaten track. i laugh, i was about to write about lonely trees but there i was inserting myself. the landscape was exactly what it was and did not need me. it seems you rip things extremely clean in these poems. it is an experiment in experience, isn't it? it leaves me looking off the precipice in every direction just as i did on the bridge.