Sunday, April 18, 2010
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Thoughts
In my work as a psychotherapist, I am fascinated by how often a persons’ stories interact with their natural landscape. How much of their ...
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Excavation They are out in the street, digging up the cement with huge metal claws. Beneath is the dried dirt, full of pebbles. Below tha...
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A harsh wind fists the forests’ wall of leaves. The shaken green smell expands my chest, cracking me open to air. Thunder sounds, vibr...
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The leaves on the big backyard Oak have the first tinge of yellow and boom. My brain, friend and foe, presents a memory, me talking the two...
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