dawn's whispering in the doon

Cozy

2011-07-18T23:26:00.000-07:00

They Say Its Your Birthday ~ Fool!

2011-04-01T23:10:00.000-07:00

Fool's Day Sky Too Much Fun Spring Ride

The Chore of Pleasure

2011-01-16T16:05:00.000-08:00

She derives great joy in cleaning the shower, a task generally overlooked until gray cling stands more prominently than the white of porcelain. Bathers and shower-takers alike, offer material to the brew. To lean over the side of the tub to scrub seems out for either. Thus, the delight of steaming her trim form until supple. Parboiling from crown down spine over beam. Bending deep for toes,

The Writer Questions

2010-12-02T20:37:00.000-08:00

This was a fine bit of inspiration today for a lazy writer, tucked in her gilded perch, looking onto frozen magnificence. From dawn's whispering in the doon The Writer Questions by Jenna Blum, author of Those Who Save Us and Stormchasers covers interesting points of craft. Its the kind of exploration offered in workshops that I hope to take someday. Enjoy!

grateful for the time

2010-11-21T23:47:00.000-08:00

From dawn's whispering in the doon A post T-Day dose, '09

Let the Pilgrim Soul

2010-10-03T22:12:00.000-07:00

Ivy listened to rumbling from the goat's belly and interpreted the sounds as satisfaction, a catish-like sonorous satisfaction. The milk streamed into the silver bucket with a chime, one rhythmic draw at a time. Ebb had been gone for several weeks and Ivy found she was enjoying her simple, daily tasks more. His departure had been planned for more than two years and she'd rooted for the trip,

Holding Close

2010-10-03T18:13:00.000-07:00

From dawn's whispering in the doon

To Be Known and Remembered

2010-09-17T01:12:00.000-07:00

This isn't about us anymore, (...you were afraid I'd forget. So was I.) Now, it's about her. The one we invited into our lives. Our Dance at her conception, was not only poetry. It was a fucking declaration; a sexual manifesto. We hollered down into an abyss larger than all the sums of all that has ever been. Carrots, nutmeg and oiled orifices aside, we saw Love. Now you are sitting at her

Alpine Frost by Hannah

2010-08-31T23:26:00.001-07:00

From dawn's whispering in the doon

2010-06-11T14:14:00.000-07:00

The forest was disturbed. Every leaf shook with an immediacy that made Ida's solid resolve soften. She'd committed to a day designed in her own manner. A break from riding herd with the little ones so that her much bossier big sister could hold the attention of the older kids, a task Ida felt her sister was ill equipped to handle. Thelma was one year away from her teaching degree but she was

Ida's Escape

2010-06-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

Ida May felt best bare foot. It didn't matter if it was a March chill nearing frosty and the forest floor was sticking between her toes, or blasted hot. She'd hop from one rock to the next giving her tough feet reprieve. Her toes had to be out, something school wouldn't allow. Today, it was the river she was heading for. Winding her way through brush towards a mass of stacked rock, covered in

Buttery Plum

2010-05-20T15:33:00.000-07:00

Spring manure fresh from the barn I'm caught dreaming ~ of satin on thigh From dawn's whispering in the doon From The Blue Room

Wings

2010-05-03T17:09:00.000-07:00

I'd fly if possible. Give me just the right lift and I'd be off. Wind and tree top, mountain face, hug my arched form as I dip among the shadows. Then, if not wings, wheels and a steep slope!

Poetry Out Loud

2010-04-26T15:37:00.000-07:00

Three hundred and twenty-five thousand student competitors were narrowed down to fifty-three finalists for the annual National Recitation Project finals April 26 & 27. The spoken word as art lives on. Read more...

Her Body Sings the Blues

2010-04-10T22:11:00.000-07:00

From dawn's whispering in the doon art by Merrick Bochart

Style With Heart ~ The Rose Woman

2010-03-02T18:39:00.000-08:00

From dawn's whispering in the doon

On the Elegant Eve of a New Moon!

2010-02-11T22:36:00.000-08:00

It was copper and turquoise jewelry that she wore best. It went well with dark hair and sparkled off her burnished, jaw, shoulders, long neck and back. Handwoven designs of seed beads, lay geometrically woven, to draw the heart in towards a lifted spark that had been dug up and kept burning through the years of soul-work. Black and copper cutwork designs were printed diagonally across a white

a gathering of the clan

2010-02-04T09:39:00.000-08:00

Bringing close all of us; those in the vicinity, those far afield, the estranged, departed and never to be forgotten. I'm starting with you Pops. Yea, she still loves you and worries how you're doing, (just as you did, right up till the last), she, forgetting at times you've been gone for a quarter of a century. She left and took us with, for her own self-preservation but only yesterday,

2010-01-26T14:18:00.001-08:00

From Home, The Heart of My Hearts I've got the fly bottle blues ~ And here's the remedy ~ Listen closely to the dirt beneath my feet ~ feel the atmosphere move ~ watch a pigeon on the tarmac lunching on crumbs ~ Nods to Ludwig Wittgenstein, Douglas Milburn, and Terry Collett and always, my life, lived quietly amidst the wilds. Magellan's Log: The Fly-bottle and I Posted using

Off to APHC ~ SF Jan. 16th ~ A Shadowy Show

2010-01-21T12:52:00.000-08:00

From dawn's whispering in the doon It was with a great deal of pleasure that I hopped a train at 4:30 AM last Saturday morning and rode the San Joaquin up the valley to Emeryville near the sea. Leaving our horizontal Elder Ma in the care of her youngest, our beloved brother Matt and his sweet Nancy, brings Ma the needed break from our routine. And I'm like a kid busting out. I can listen

James Laughlin

2009-12-27T23:12:00.000-08:00

Borrowed in a state of Raven delight. O Best of All Nights, Return and Return Again by James Laughlin read by G. Keillor /*

To Maude

2009-12-19T22:37:00.000-08:00

~ From The Blue Room Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. W.B.Yeats

Routines

2009-12-03T17:52:00.000-08:00

What I miss most about our morning is building the fire and pouring coffee. When the children were young, I'd roll out of our nice cozy loft in snowlit darkness. My sense of touch and knowledge of space were so familiar that it was three steps to the stove, bang-stir and bump-up the embers to a crackle flash, warming my skin still comfortable from your embrace. Firelight set the whole room to

Europa and Ganymede Nov. 17th, 2009

2009-11-15T17:42:00.000-08:00

The Leonid meteor shower, should peak very late tonight! The afternoon will offer the shadows of New Moon Algol should be of minimum light for a duo of hours, those centering on 5:58 ~ after dusk in the East from a telescope, Jupiter's moon Europa overlays Ganymede Only a ring shines forth in the East Holding breath, not to fog the lens they appear to merge... then separate as

A Certain Kind of Gathering

2009-11-10T12:22:00.000-08:00

Daughter dear, We've had fifty-six years to get to know each other. At one time, when your polar-axis flipped, I thought I'd become you. Now that I'm dead and you've gone back to your life, I want to talk with you. Stay up all night like we used to when your father was visiting. Everyone would be around the long kitchen table, windows open and the heat hanging heavy, sweat dripping off of so

Noir

2009-10-21T22:10:00.001-07:00

I'd like to use this image of Hannah to frame an introduction to the art photography effort of Hin Chua After the Fall From Snowshoes Oct.'09

love for the task at hand

2009-10-18T22:36:00.000-07:00

sustain the effluent tempo beat and quarter beat amidst tautness release banal tension

Friday, Mid-October

2009-10-17T14:29:00.000-07:00

Eight hundred-thousand insects chime marimba beat our final autumn slowing from the cool air below cinnamon sheets spread celery comfort. Garfield, Godiva and pump, humming fragile clever time

The Kern River

2009-10-10T15:24:00.000-07:00

I'm learning a new system of downloading pictures...check out the view!

Like Churchill in the Garden by Micah Bochart

2009-10-05T09:51:00.000-07:00

September 2007 Reckless, like Churchill in the garden. Pen pressed to paper, as the story goes, cutting up the empire into units of glib aesthetic, saying here’s Kenya, here’s Uganda, here’s Nairobi, and the price of that swell-looking map coming down hard in borders and stations and the sundering of tribes. Coming down hard in the Masaii divided, to the north Kenyans, to south Tanzanians.

Cedar Sam's of Willapa Bay

2009-07-30T00:26:00.000-07:00

He wasn't sure if he was still connected to his family. It had been weeks since he'd heard from any of them; no calls or letters. Busy he supposed. Still finding their footing. All the years of being right on top of each other had been endearing. And excruciating. He proposed, that by getting away, he'd learn--fast track, both what he was made of and if there was anything left.Craighton D.

Luck...my old friend >>>w/wiki 'n' milk appreciation

2009-07-15T13:10:00.000-07:00

From The Writer’s Almanac7/15/'09Iris Murdoch is quoted as saying, "Happiness is a matter of one's most ordinary everyday mode of consciousness being busy and lively and unconcerned with self. To be damned is for one's ordinary everyday mode of consciousness to be unremitting agonizing preoccupation with self."She also said: "Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until

The Independence of My Days

2009-07-04T00:12:00.000-07:00

There is nothing I love more than to be able to launch off when ever I please, wherever I please.My wish for all is that everyone might know the freedom and strength that comes from having that as a right in their life.

Into Dreamscape... our shared uncommons

2009-06-29T14:06:00.000-07:00

I'm excited to have come across a new sponsor for A Prairie Home Companion, North of Eden. Having been a student of archetypal imagery and dream journals, Deluge as the inaugural summer 2009 edition from NOE, looks inviting.I'll report more as I become savvy with the organization and it's contributors.Art: Inward Stillness by George Grie

Understanding Gravity

2009-06-28T00:21:00.000-07:00

I'm having a difficult time finding the needed lift to lob this extra weight away from the center of my being. Now, I'm fairly certain that I could hold it for eternity...well, at least, for quite some time. But I'm feeling multitudinous pinfeathers prickling from every nerve ending, head to toe. I'm preparing for solo flight. ...someone else might really be able to use the ballast.

The Dark Parts of Myself

2009-05-23T18:43:00.000-07:00

When engaged with my heart on high beam express, especially out among the valleys, white and gleaming, I hear the score of Earth and the grand symphonic of the Deep, Dark Heavens.I imagine that sound, as a love song written by and for All That Is, (and... just for me!). It brings abundant joy and adds kick to my stride to catch such a private validation. To see how the wind speaks and watch it

A Voice Remembered

2009-05-09T22:55:00.000-07:00

Follow the link to The Poetry Foundation's article on Mary Oliver.White Eyesby Mary OliverIn winter all the singing is in the tops of the trees where the wind-birdwith its white eyes shoves and pushes among the branches. Like any of ushe wants to go to sleep, but he's restless— he has an idea, and slowly it unfoldsfrom under his

To My Mensch

2009-04-11T21:15:00.000-07:00

Our life's moment in the motes of dust collecting sunlight filtering down onto our affair we two from this trio of decades We should be ready to rapture what we've captured, what we've fondled into existence and molded so lovely between our folds Instead we barely nod an excuse for having different plans Perhaps it's true that apart is gentler than being together Still we keep hanging