Left for the wind to clear
hard clay, soft remains
of a Red Tail Hawk.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged birds, Dry Creek, feathers, Golden Eagle, haiku, photographs, poetry, Red Tail Hawk, wildlife
I’m not a real photographer—
just trying to capture
real things differently
with a point & shoot
while working in weather
wearing good cameras down
to a bad investments—
small fortunes rendered
to useless cases.
No place for tripods
moving cattle, feeding hay—
no words to hold the wild
still. No time, dearly beloved,
when deep on the inside
of an unraveling ball of twine.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Bobcat, Dry Creek, photographs, photography, poetry, weather, wildlife
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Dry Creek, haiku, honeybee, Milk Thistle, photographs, poetry, weekly-photo-challenge, wildflowers, wildlife
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged birds, Drought, Dry Creek, haiku, Osprey, Pandion haliaetus, photographs, poetry, water, weather, wildlife
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged Bobcat, corrals, Dry Creek, ground squirrel, haiku, photographs, poetry, scales, weekly-photo-challenge, wildlife
All of the young bucks
know their place and wait
for business to pick up—
for the boss to be gone
with work of his own
calling him away, far
enough that he won’t know
what they’re up to.
They spar a little, rattle
thin horns, bide their time
in the thick of November—
like it’s always been.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged deer, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, riparian, sycamores, water, wildlife, young bucks
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged Dry Creek, haiku, Kaweah River, photographs, poetry, riparian, water, wildlife
I have no reason to wake up hungry,
but how I miss Estrada’s dark-red
enchilada sauce on my tongue,
macaroni, stuffed rellenos, sizzling
tostada compuestas with chile
con caso, beans and rice—
or all you could eat prime rib
at the Red Barn, south of town—
thick slabs sliced from half a cow,
bloody juice pooled and running
right before your appetite—kids
well-fed at two bucks a head
for hard-working families
out on the town. Visalia was
the place to eat well before
it wanted to be like everywhere else—
before the fast-food similes
from the cities it escaped.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014
Tagged appetite, Estrada's Spanish Kitchen, poetry, Visalia
Time for a shower,
a quarter, a tenth.
I have the next rain
at my fingertips—
the hunt and peck,
scroll of percentiles
dialed-in
hour by hour
of the good stuff I want—
that naked clay needs
to stay alive.
Nothing’s changed.
We all hang on a forecast—
cuss the messenger
who gets paid
when he’s wrong
or claims he’s right.
It is our nature
where a man’s word
is everything.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2014, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Paregien Ranch, photographs, poetry, rain, weather, weathermen