Author Archives: Jim Stewart
Birth Times: Two
(Another essay tired of languishing without a home. ~JimS) As far as mysteries go, birth is the only event I can think of that rivals death in its head-scratching miraculous reality. Humans make a big deal of it. I don’t … Continue reading
In Her Wings
(for John Prine) The Universe held mein her wings today;I could feel her heart beatright next to mine.She gathered all my sadnessand tucked it awaysomewhere out past JupiterI couldn’t find. Sometimes you just haveto give it up,accept the help you … Continue reading
Haiku: Days of Sand
Sand under my wheels–Ain’t no words for how it feels–Just one of those deals. (Photo: Narble Furt)
Haiku: Each Breath
Gratitude for each breath is a verse that goes onuntil the song ends. Be well; be safe; be kind. (Photo: Narble Furt)
The Quiet
Another essay I want to share. I’d rather have it sit here on narble.blog than hide in my directory structure. ~JimS. It’s late evening. I’m standing on a front porch in Gearhart, Oregon, on the dune I’ve come to call … Continue reading
The Ecology of Gratitude
I’m clearing the decks. Here’s another essay nobody will publish. JimS. Ah, gratitude: a simple way to honor the place in which you find yourself, an emotion that encompasses the breadth of a life and lights the sometimes stony path … Continue reading
Coyote Comes Callin’
I’m posting this here because I am very tired of rejection notes telling me it doesn’t really fit in <insert publication>. Yes, I understand it’s an ongoing process, but with this piece, which I really like, I’m just absolutely sick … Continue reading
The Time I Did Not Give Brian Doyle a Piggy-Back Ride
I’m staying with the Brian theme one more time.–jrs Writers write, but authors have to do other stuff as well. Some of that stuff involves traveling around, reading some of what you’ve written, and discussing the sometimes mysterious differences between … Continue reading
A prayer for my friend Brian Doyle and my grandpuppy Toulouse
This uses the form Brian invented for his Book of Uncommon Prayer and is used here out of deep profound respect–jrs Who never met but I would offer a few years off my life to watch them measure each other. … Continue reading
Muselessness
I’m supposed to be finishing a novel but I’m not. It’s a murky late summer day with an uncertain sky and a directionally challenged breeze smelling of salt and fir, marsh and cedar. My characters are all hovering around the … Continue reading