Bisons & Bullets
On a hill on an island with fewer than two hundred people on it, there was a sculpture of a bison with holes in it.
Bad Ways to Exit a Canyon
This body, the one I’ve hated and mistrusted and treated more poorly than anything else I’ve ever owned – it still worked, and it worked well.
Not Quite Night
For a fistful of minutes, the bats performed their choppy waltz with each other and their prey. With each change in direction or newly chosen flight path, they reacted to shifts in our shared environment that I couldn’t see, hear, or understand.
Irregular Shadows
I imagine this is similar to being in what the Celts called a “thin place.” Where the veil between this world and others is smallest. Just like moments of portent, there’s an extra bit of resonance both deep in my chest and prickling on the surface of my skin.