if I were a painter
When we make something with our hands, it changes the way we feel, which changes the way we think, which changes the way we act. ~ Carl Wilkens I am surrounded, here, by art—natural, and human-made, and human-created collections of the natural. To my left,...
the man whose feet hurt
there once was a man whose feet hurt. everywhere he stepped, prickly things stabbed his skin. if not thorns and briars, it was sharp-edged rocks and gravel. when it snowed, the cold burned. when sun poured over the land, the heat seared. he was tired of blistered,...
wolves have two knees
and two elbows. forearms, hips, teeth, wrists. five toes on each forefoot, and four toes on the hind. twenty months ago I knew almost nothing about wolves. today I know a great deal, but I didn't learn they have knees until yesterday. and something about this matters...
spatial and temporal
I am a writer who cycles. and a cyclist who writes. neither is separate from the other, and when I am cycling my mind fills with things to write about, from the world surrounding me to the bumpy road beneath my tires to the creatures (including motorists) who cross...
one perfect paragraph
I am impatient. there are writers who spend five or eight or a dozen years writing a novel, crafting each sentence, paragraph, and chapter with the dedication and precision of a Bernini. I would be bald and fat if I worked that way, having pulled every hair from my...
r e c o v e r y
I am a cyclist. one might even call me an athlete, an endurance athlete, as I train for and complete ridiculously long and challenging rides. for the past 8 years I have trained for an event called lotoja, a 206-mile race from logan, utah, to jackson, wyoming. the...
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