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Kelp
Each being being being’s link
The Gulls Go Scudding By
But I am searching for the compass as the gulls go scudding by
End of Summer
57.03686, -135.27614: the iron door of the north clangs open
Áakʼw Tʼáak Sítʼ
The day we wake to is our own
Much Closer
I have to go much farther
and I have to get much closer
That Morning On Klakas
55.013721, -132.395197: The sounds of humans are not found at all
Home Was Where
Changing perspective
No Bridge
Without words
Fortress
This one got tired
of lugging his fortress
wherever he went
Shaped By What Cannot Be Seen
a blazing and fast-fading November sun
Fork
37.128640, -91.485787: Fish Trap Hole on Jack’s Fork
Corn
the breathless morn
Songs For Chena
64.842855, -147.781354: August morning coffee and tunes
More Illusions Than Realities
55.53, -130.792: Punchbowl
Yukon
Huge open space and a very loosely defined version of ‘road’ that went on and on
L’úx Shaa
A beautiful poem
Herring
untarnished as herring