Category Archives: Oregon
Haiku: Well Rested Bulls (for Martha)
Elk resting easy;We all managed our distance;They were unconcerned. (elk photo: Jim Stewart)
Haiku: Still Winter
All day cold north wind;Spits of rain from time to time.It is still winter. (Ecola Point: Jim Stewart)
Haiku: Wind Aria
The sea paints the shoreas the rain lashes my face;the wind sings a hymn. (waves: Jim Stewart)
Rumbling About
I can sit on my motorcycle, rumbling down Coast Highway 101, following my front tire to Seaside. As long as there is road, sometimes it isn’t possible to discover a reason to stop. Clustered memories can explode into other years … Continue reading
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
Haiku: Days of Sand
Sand under my wheels–Ain’t no words for how it feels–Just one of those deals. (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
Amble du Jour
The dog catches my eyeand whines his question:“Now, Boss, now?”An idea: the smell of saltopens my mind.I laugh and nod.He stands with a clatterof claws on hardwood,tail high and boisterous, ashe prances around the couch.His eager head presses throughthe red … Continue reading
Looking Up
(for William Stafford) Your poems run the gamut;you have blessed us with musicof realization and understanding.Many of those poems were bornon your couch, lying on your back,looking up at your journal.Really? Their birth is asastonishing as their venerable lives.