Snow on Black Tar Jon Hillenbrand, January 24, 2013March 30, 2016 In the desert, the sand on top of the sand is almost like a talcum powder, rubbed smooth by tripping and tumbling over its rough brothers for eons. This slippery dust gets picked up by the wind and flows close the the ground in the same way pelicans use the updraft coming off of waves in the ocean to inflate their large parachute-like wings. The birds flow over the waves, very close to the water, on a ground-effect or bubble of air that is always in motion. It’s invisible, but you could feel it if you could fly. The same can be said for the layer of misty sand floating over a desert when the wind picks up. Go to the beach on a windy day and you’ll find this sand in your ears on the drive home. If the sunlight hits it just right, you can see this layer when two or more waves of wind combine, or slow enough to cause the dust to peak. The long stringy peak flows over the desert in the same way that very cold snow does over blacktop in parking lots. A very cold day will whip off the edges of snowflakes and combine them into a snowy mist that floats over the ground. This can be hard to see if you aren’t paying attention, but in some parking lots paved with black tar, the strings of misty snow will flow past and around you. The sun can’t be too warm and the wind can’t be too fast. The ground can not undulate too much. To see it is to see a combination of factors and events coalescing, like when paint and canvas texture combine with muscle and humidity and ambient light to create art. A beauty is created and revealed to those looking for it. Poetry birdscommonalityheatnaturepoemPoetrysandsnowsunvignettewindwings
Poetry My frightening moments in the toy section March 22, 2007December 30, 2015 And with tears and longing, a forgotten child cringes, small hands clutching at the unpurchased toy, the life preserver and the reason and the hated reason, love at first sight, pretending not to notice the fading nearness of mothers skirt, vague fantasies projecting into mysteries. And all the world collapses… Read More
Poetry Potential October 15, 2010May 10, 2013 The ink drops to the page, ridged blackness like an inverted star its potential swimming within the fluid. I stab it with my finger and drag out its life into a box within which I fill everything that fills me. A lifetime of fear and happiness, love lost and gained,… Read More
Poetry How do I love thee December 25, 2009December 30, 2015 Man is a wonder. So full of possibility, so acutely a master of all things good and evil. Often we gather to push together, our efforts as one more powerful than the sum of the individuals. We chose to go to the moon, not because it was easy Read More