• Books
  • Stafford on Stafford

    William Stafford (Photo by Kim Stafford) Early Morning is a memoir of William Stafford written by his son Kim Stafford. This book is so singularly satisfying, so full of wisdom I can’t put it down. Is there another case of a larger-than-life writer whose story has been told by his or her child who just […]

  • Poetry
  • Being Awake

    Nee Nej 2, from a new series of paintings I worked on this winter I’ve posted this poem here already, several years ago. It resurfaced in me this morning and it feels like a perfect fit for the mood of my mind and spirit, heavy with the events of the last week. But that undeniable […]

  • Poetry
  • The Strange Notes of our Wildness

    The flying foxes (bats) in Sydney’s Hyde Park. They are an extreme statement of wildness very close at hand. It is not skill, knowledge, intellect, good luck or bad, but choosing to feel the strange notes of our wildness, for there is not nothingness despite the easy magic of despair. Another moment spent in the […]

  • Poetry
  • Sages of Silence and Fear

    A painter and a poet. Martin and Stafford have been (and continue to be) elemental influences on me. *** Agnes Martin (Photo: Charles R. Rushton) To discover the conscious mind in a world where intellect is held to be valuable requires solitude, quite a lot of solitude. We have been very strenuously conditioned against solitude. […]

  • Poetry
  • That Form in the Grass

    A Message from the Wanderer Today outside your prison I stand and rattle my walking stick: Prisoners, listen; you have relatives outside. And there are thousands of ways to escape. Years ago I bent my skill to keep my cell locked, had chains smuggled to me in pies, and shouted my plans to jailers; but […]

  • Poetry
  • Lean Out a Window

    Just Thinking Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window. No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held for awhile. Some dove somewhere. Been on probation most of my life. And the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments count for a lot – peace, you know. Let the bucket of […]

  • Poetry
  • Wing, Fin, Flake

    Wind Gift For you, something not put even in prayer. Like broad wings that swim thick under your fall And won’t let you drop through the air. Or the same thing under the sea where your boat goes. A teeming companionship of life too full for a hollow —the way a canyon’s alive when it […]