#camping
Tent unfolding us to pitch sleep,
Beneath stars hoping to keep
their location on lock.
White dandelions suddenly dock.
Everything in our periphery froze,
Except the sniffing black bear nose.
Smelling our uncooked meat stored,
Our sparkling blood-red wine, we’ve yet to pour.
Careful how we slept, how we snored,
We missed the bear who wore
his hunger in his yellow teeth clinched,
challenging the comfort of our disbelief, since
we allowed ourselves the deepening forest
of sleepy star lullaby chorus.
We should have been alert and not shirk,
observing signs reading, “Careful bears at work.”
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 12:07 PM UTC
A tomboy
Tall, lithe, strong
Freckled, hair a cute bob
Her hand had fit to hammer
Her hand had penned poetry
And stories retold as
She fit me perfectly
Before that first night’s fire
Talking through the night
At sunrise
Fit me perfectly abed
But she chain smoked
When her demons roared
This brilliant woman
Left high school for a tour of Italy
Fell in love with a boy
Fell in love with the language
Speaking only English
Enrolled in an Italian university
Became fluent
Returned to Seattle
Took a degree in linguistics
But she chain smoked
When her demons roared
Camping on the banks of
The Chihuahua River
Round midnight her lighter
Fired, lit the tent
Lit her anxious face
Between her deep draws
Of tobacco smoke
She pleaded to be taken to a hospital
I said we had to wait until dawn
I feared she would set the tent afire
As she chain smoked
As her demons roared
We made the long drive back to Seattle
Went from hospital to hospital
At sunset found her a home
A month later
We renewed our fit
But some rhyme had been lost
Soon she placed herself
In yet another locked down ward
Disappeared from my life
I began to struggle with my own
Severe anxiety
Wondered if mental illness
Could be contagious
I abandoned her.
Decades on
Having made my own voyages
Through detox and suicide watch
I know, I understand
The need for community, safety
And meds
I know intimately her need
I would not now leave her
But I did
Probably my biggest mistake in life
I abandoned our love
I abandoned Renee
I was a young fool who left a woman
Who chain smoked
When her demons roared
Nov 14, 2025
Nov 14, 2025 at 5:43 AM UTC
Finally
Our drought is ending.
All day it has rained
In wind whipped squalls.
My beloved firs and cedars
Once loosed brown needles
But now hold new growth tight
As if grasping green raincoats
Against the storm.
While
Alders, vine maples, and cottonwoods
Let go of autumn
In golden wet showers of leaf
Turning pavements to
Painter’s drop cloths.
Thus winter begins
Here along the Salish Sea.
My heart begins to ache.
I mourn
Not just the loss of this autumn
But three decades of October,
Three decades of my life,
When
Like spawning salmon,
Every year we journeyed
Far and high from salt water
To the clear, sweet waters of Nason Creek,
A misnamed river
Rushing noisily down from these peaks
Named Cascade.
Again was the time of bears
Foraging for final meals
Before their long sleep.
Our old blue backpacking tent
Had traveled thousands of miles,
More than many people,
Certainly unlike all but the very few
Who have traveled by bicycle from
Anacortes to Bar Harbor.
She was a living thing
That tent,
My best friend.
I was happy to let her rest
Each fall
There beneath the pines
By river’s edge.
I could feel her joy of return.
I am old but oh how
I remember:
The swing of my axe,
Foraging for leaf, twig, cone,
The careful teepee build of fuel,
The evening’s first flames.
The sweet charred flesh of trout,
Potatoes cooked amongst the embers.
Sitting ‘round the fire
Drinking wine
Far into the night,
Tuning our little radio
To those far flung stations
One can only hear then.
As that mountain air grew
Sharp, clear, cold
We donned coats,
Added ever more wood,
Made the flames leap higher,
Scooted chairs closer
Where the mercurial fleeing smoke
Stung the eyes
Forcing one’s gaze upward
Into the infinity of blazing stars.
Regretfully we retired to
Down sleeping bags
Beneath a down comforter.
As the moon ever watched,
All but the river’s rapids
Came silent, came still
With the Fahrenheit plunge
Well below freezing.
Here the swift swoop
And strike of an owl
Edged my dreamless sleep.
Some years
Nights were not so cold.
We lay in rapture
In our little tent
As the night cracked open
With thunder,
As lightning lit us up like
X-rays.
Then came the deluge.
We marveled at remaining dry,
Grateful for the fine craftsmanship
Of our cozy gypsy home.
Most mornings
I emerged wearing layers
Beneath my old plaid coat,
Hands gloved.
I drew water,
Lit the propane stove,
Made French press coffee
Which we drank in chairs
On that river’s east bank,
Waiting out the slow rise of sun
Until the facing forest lit afire,
Until rapids sparked with light,
Until our backs were finally warmed.
All day it has rained.
I mourn.
I mourn.
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 2:36 PM UTC
Evening
Whoops and hollers
Torn from tongue
Were gale flung
Back toward the village
If only soiled laundry
Stained of my poor choices
Whipped from
My clothesline of memories
Homeland of Makah
At nation’s far point
Upon that final ****** of stone
We stood atop its
Plunge into sea
Twilight gripped like
Prayer shawls
We could not hold back
Moon nor stars
Home with wind East
Shabby trailers
Stapled to the earth
Chained dogs
Feral felines
Hulks of auto
Appliances abandoned to rust
East toward the dawn
Sunrise and tide
Westward rolling
Sands swarmed with
Seekers
Out of last of night’s
Shadows seeking treasure
Even a glass Japan net float
Noon
In left hand
The map sketched on
Paper torn from
A patient’s chart
With right
I swung pack over shoulder
A cove held secret
By nailed drift and
Rusted anchor chain
We descended
In high sun
On sands, on blanket spread
In the wind hiss of surf
Naked both
Nancy taught me
Arts of love
I tongued her to screams
Night
The moon
Pulled flame into the sky
The hiss and spit
Of burning cedar
Stars!
With radar and chart
Ships cut the night
To round the point
Into the straight
Tacoma, Seattle still hours off
Firelight said a pilot
Lit with lantern
Our shapes writhed and moaned
Upon the thin tent walls
Only a raccoon to see
I slept the dream of Orca
Half brain
Still upon her skin
Her lips
Toward the morn
I slept the dream of Orca
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 8:27 PM UTC
I was seven
That day we waded the south fork
Of the rushing Stillaguamish,
Cousin Mel and I,
Each a hand tightly grasped in
Father’s.
We had pitched camp
Amongst the crumbling foundations,
The sinking brick paths,
Near the still standing chimney
Of Big Four Lodge,
Once playground of the wealthy,
Once only reached by train.
We climbed the dusty, steep,
Old, old trail.
Together we stood reviving
In the chill breeze
Of the cave,
The tons of ice overhead
Melting drop by drop
To fall on heads and shoulders.
Blinking, back in sunlight,
We watched reflections shimmer
On a small pool.
Father having dared,
Clothes shed,
We jumped into that mirror
Of heart stopping
Melted ice field,
Screaming, scrambled out.
We ate Mac and cheese
Hot off the white gas stove
That eve,
Hot dogs charred in our fire.
As dusk fell to darkness
Far from city lights,
We lined in shared anticipation.
Chins and eyes skyward,
Father gripping elk hunting field glasses,
Our vision darted
Horizon to horizon,
Searching, searching
A thousand and one stars.
Look, look!
A hand shot up, pointing.
We shared the nation’s fervor, fever
To spot a speeding satellite,
For every night held that dawn
Of the Soviet/U.S. space race.
We kids
Slept in the open,
My parents
In the big green canvas tent.
‘Round midnight
Mother woke us
With a wild yell,
A big, fat bullfrog
On her feet,
Its eyes found with
Flashlight.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 3:40 PM UTC
I waited in silence.
Cold air whistled,
raised goosebumps on our arms.
Your eyes finally closed—
dark lashes fluttered
as you exhaled.
I leaned down to your ear.
The sleeping bag rustled.
“I love you,”
even though you don’t love me.
even though we could never be together.
You mumbled something back.
I didn’t hear.
I never asked what you said.
I just stared up at the tent.
You’d love me,
maybe,
if I wasn’t a girl.
And I’d tell you,
if you weren’t
the one person
I couldn’t afford to lose.
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 11:43 AM UTC
My bodies losing the collagen
To keep itself together
And you still want to go camping
And smoke out in this weather
When the sun goes down
And we feel cold
And we need eachother
In a skin to skin hold
Don’t point out my cuts, bruises, and blood
Just kiss my skin and tell me I’m loved.
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 6:09 PM UTC
I wanna go camping,
I wanna bring my lizard.
I wanna smoke tons of ****
As my joints swell in a blizzard.
I never want to explain myself,
To anyone ever again.
I want someone to truly need me,
To truly be my friend.
Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 3:24 AM UTC
Oh golden hues
of soft sunlight
you bathe the world
and cast away night
Warming earth
and bark, and leaf
stealing cold
liken to a thief
Would it be that my life
could be spent
in this moment
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 3:45 PM UTC
In quiet starlight beneath twin trees,
Where shadows danced in secret rhythms cast by campfire glows,
Hearts murmured softly to the moon.
Distance grown, lands apart,
Yet, a silent tether held firm.
Trails merge, unspoken flares,
souls in wordless chorus.
This uncharted depth treading lightly upon,
A tale unvoiced,
a memory held beneath twin trees.
Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 4:01 AM UTC
Lying on my back in the sand
Dead fish flop desperately underneath my spine
Cold
Whispering
Corners of my vision
Taxidermied owl
Taxidermied swallow
Pinned Cicada
Etched with defeat.
Roar of the ocean
Flopping fish
You wave its fins in my face and
Run away when I wave back.
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 11:00 PM UTC
I remember stories, told through grey smoke
recited slowly, under shadowed eyes
as the old, dry toad croaked,
in a rickety melody by my side.
Forgotten romancers would carve
hearts into the husk of pine.
One was told,
time after time:
Two lovers, a yellow scarf,
we are both the same, headless and blind.
Lose all sense when we meet up
I pray you'll rescue me
chase away my sorrow and bad luck.
Rain always seems to pour most
once I'm building my shelter
my poor face as pale as a ghost
and my urgency, burns like a summer swelter.
I need you like the river needs its bending
to love you is natural,
a broken bone must go on mending.
So take your weathered hands
lead me to the forest
I cannot see, but I feel its stirring.
The finch and the blackbird, chattering chorus
brain-dead trusting, so alluring.
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 2:03 AM UTC
When you're out on the water
and the sun becomes sea
two planes of reality
begging to meet.
There is no horizon
no end to my sight
only the certainty of knowing
at least, in nothingness,
things will be alright.
Jan 1, 2023
Jan 1, 2023 at 3:29 AM UTC
a lavender light
brushes by a crested sky,
withering toils
though the weathered roads
crack still in our tread home,
the sky turns alone.
verdant cascades fall
from lush rounded peaks above
rolling hills dive deep
with oneiric breaths,
from rivers to the roots who
echo ebbs & flows
Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 4:14 AM UTC
Blow a kiss & show me
What true liberation and
Desire look like, I deserve it
& when I see you, I am coming
With you. With nothing but
Excitement and the best intention.
I would love nothing more than that.
It doesn’t matter the list of places.
The first, second, or third destination.
I’d really just like to go hallucinate
With you In the wilderness.
A language that needs no translation.
No matter where we stand, mentally
We are where we want to be.
Prosperous in each other.
The earth tucked beneath a blanket,
eventually we’ll have to get up
but until then blow a few kisses
& take me with you.
A naked soul free, exploring a dream.
One of the first things that come to mind
Your face on front of a post card.
This memory snuggled up close
In infinity.
Without having to imagine or dream
Where we’ve already been.
Together by the lake,
The mountains nestled low,
One head snuggled into another.
The campfire barely visible, piled in a mess
Together.
Realizing that there’s nothing more perfect
Realizing that we are a dream within a dream.
Realizing that only we can make this a reality.
I want this so bad.
No matter where we stand, mentally.
We are where we want to be.
Each other’s everywhere & everything
in between.
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 8:31 AM UTC
there's this boy,
dark hair, light-brown skin,
his eyes warm like a campfire,
with my melting marshmallow heart,
my fever for him grows, i love him,
squished between the graham crackers of guilt,
because i love her as well.
-lilac
Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 3:58 PM UTC
The woods are calling
Calling my name
Come to us
Be with us
Be one with us
So I packed up my tent and my Ghillie Stove
Put my hiking boots on
And made my way
Into the deep dark woods
The magnificent majestic ancient woods
Full of beech, oak and hornbeam
I felt at peace once again
Amongst my friends
The tree spirits
And wood nymphs.
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 3:26 PM UTC
Pitch black.
Black as night.
Blacker than black.
All is silent.
Eerily
silent.
Deathly
silent.
Waiting.
Fearing.
Expecting...
the worse.
The wind whistling,
winding itself
through
the trees,
seductively,
assertively,
aggressively.
Tension
building.
Coming
closer.
Gathering
pace.
Leaves
quiver.
Trees
shake.
A flash
of lightening.
A piercing
crack.
Dead above.
Eyes
wide.
Heart
stopped.
Frozen.
Then just as abruptly as it arrived, its gone.
Leaving the rain behind.
Pitter,
patter,
plop
on the tent canvas.
Soothing.
Calming.
Zzzzzz.
Dawn comes.
Birds sing.
Fresh morning dew.
All's well in the world once more.
Til the next time....
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 2:39 PM UTC
Restless Ulysses calling seaward
Wave-crest and trough on water
Bark seal slap rush
Carve one sweep, two sweep
Push and the wayfarer
Boot, back, and shoulder
A life neatly bundled going on
On and on and on; wander
Because no god is present
Without vastness, surrender
Fire lick crackle burn driftwood blue
On the sand in the gravel
And restless sailor calling seaward
Take the horizon to break
Spine and sinew ironmonger
The old and elderly will fondly remember
These days when we were strong
And the stars unobscured by smoke
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 5:35 PM UTC
I see the clouds above me,
They're floating in the sky,
I wonder what they see,
And wonder why they cry.
I listen to the fire,
While sitting in its glow,
Not a thing does it require,
But wood for it to grow.
Gently does the breeze,
Whisper to my skin,
I wander if the trees,
Mind about the wind.
I will not shut my eyes,
Wont miss one part of this,
The sun is giving the skies,
A loving goodnight kiss.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 2:42 AM UTC
𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈
𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹
𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝓌𝓁 𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓉𝓈
𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉
May 3, 2020
May 3, 2020 at 10:45 PM UTC