Frost Whenever I see early morning frost I think of you, Mother, how each day, when you drove me to school through the canyon you’d point out how the meadows glimmered as if it were the first time.Read more "Frost"
As Dusk Falls The sliver of a new moon simmers, iridescent, against deepening blue, delicate as a brushstroke. [image: Waning Crescent Moon | Miguel Claro] — Keep up with Tai Woodville’s many creative pursuits, including a conceptual electronic album, musical appearances, poetry readings and more.Read more "As Dusk Falls"
Invisible Ink When the flame of presence is lit the truth emerges, like invisible ink on a page that before appeared blank. [image: from Bodyscapes | John Poppleton]Read more "Invisible Ink"
The Grays The grays are worse than the blues… At least you can write a song about the rich cobalt-feeling of sadness. The grays settle like a cloak of smoke, leaving you voiceless and dry-eyed, with nothing so satisfying as a good cry. The grays have nothing to give, not even tears. Wraith-like, they confuse […]Read more "The Grays"
Dreaming Through the Dark During the long twilight of winter I become a bulb in the ground— small & still inside myself. I close my eyes, swimming in darkness, willing the pinprick of light to expand until I am my own sun.Read more "Dreaming Through the Dark"
Winter Woods White mist drifts through rain-wet pines. Walking through the forest feels like a waking dream. Rubber soles against dark earth, plastered with shed leaves. Looking up, the sky is no-color. A counsel of cedars surrounds me. The further the trees, the more suffused in mist, until the world becomes a sea of clouds. […]Read more "Winter Woods"
Magicians Father raised bright tiger lilies and roses the color of the sunset, that slow, daily apocalypse. Trumpet vine and Copa de Oro, orange and gold as the wildfires that ate up our dry hills each Fall, when the wind began to howl and rattle our old wooden house. Some nights, we were a family […]Read more "Magicians"
House Without Mirrors This house is fresh, unspoiled. I want to carve love’s initials in its walls, never lay a hard word against you. In this house, clean of memories, I could still be good to you. New floors, fresh paint, no chairs. [image: Erinn Hargis Photography]Read more "House Without Mirrors"
Cathedral of Leaves Summer is here, and I don’t want to leave my porch. Steeped in slow heat, I sit and let my thoughts unspool, watching the smoke from my burnt offerings tell stories in the sunlight— backlit leaves like stained glass windows. A jay squawks and time stands still . . . I become […]Read more "Cathedral of Leaves"
Three Dogs I watched three dogs play in the surf today, they were not heartbroken at all. They had loved, but it was pure: sea, air, salt, sun.Read more "Three Dogs"