Fragments An email from a former online student popped up from some unknowable chasm for some unknown reason, A koi escaped from the Sargasso of the Internet. It asked a question in its digital bottle. I answered it and tossed it back through the time maelstrom. I have not seen or heard or smelled or…

[caption id="attachment_9521" align="alignnone" width="1920"] This is a picture of a battered and creased black paperback book cover. The black cover with purple and blue fonts is abraded and scuffed but lovingly so.[/caption]   I started rereading W.H. Auden’s essays, The Dyer’s Hand again. The pages have yellowed, the spine has become crackly. Hope it holds…

Attending to the World Push me, pull me. How all life moves. Focus and unfocus. Pay mind and let go. Is that not enough? Our struggle fits. We work together, like sunflowers and goldfinches, givers and takers, alternatively. we perch together, the snick of connexion, always together. So much of this is routine, is what…