the back burner

north sea birds

from today's Writer's Almanac

Where are Men
When they're Not at Home?

Different places.

Some are out at the barn checking on the mare that's about to foal.
I know, not many now.
A few.

Some are running down to the corner store to pick up something they forgot.
Be right back.

Some are in offices practicing pitches. Spiels.

Some are phoning from offices—saying they'll be late.

Of course, many are dead.
You suddenly think about them because you're back where you haven't been
in 20 years
and go to look them up.
But they're not there.
Just some widows.

But most are way off somewhere searching for fathers who were never home
enough.

"Where are Men When they're Not at Home?" by Reid Bush, from What You Know. © Larkspur Press.

photographer

architecture

(more shots from bruges.)

fountain

statue

Moss is climbing up your toes,
pushing forward when no one's watching,
silently moving on, silently moving on.

Spiders spin between the locks of your hair;
one morning you wear a web that's
holding on to the dew, like a crown, like a crown.

Suns rise and rains fall again and again
upon your quiet face, made of stone and
serious like a dream, serious like a dream.

Do these gentle affections of nature
quicken the memory of whence you came,
or all they all lost on you? are they all lost on you?

Covered, I find you do not feel it.
Shown, you cannot see or comprehend it.
Would you hear if I yelled? You stand there; I will yell.

quote of the day

"It's what I call 'problem creep.' It happens when you go in expecting certain traction to occur, certain deals to be made, certain parameters to be set... and it gets harder as you go, because probelms keep on multiplying while you're experiencing the subtle but growing stress of unmet expectations."

(Ahhh, Problem Creep, I finally learn your name! Thanks, B.)