Tag: #lyricessay
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TEAM FLAME, a Hermit Crab Essay in a baseball lineup card
Nine At-Bats BATTING SEVENTH Number 12, Second Base, FALSE FIRE (Coaches note: known for the glove and turning the double play) I spent years looking for the dramatic burning bush while overlooking the smaller flames surrounding me. The welder’s torch Lantern light at the cabin Woodstoves in February The flare of match heads Campfire smoke…
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TEAM FLAME, A Hermit Crab Essay in a baseball lineup card
Nine at bats. BATTING FIFTH Number 77, Third Base, DESERT DUST (Coaches note: all hit or miss, takes a big swing) Sitting on rocks, I recalled Gary Snyder’s line: “The closer you get to real matter — rock, air, fire, wood — the more spiritual the world is.” Under the tree and above the hard…
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TEAM FLAME, A Hermit Crab Essay in a baseball lineup card
Nine at bats CLEANUP BATTER Number 14, First Base, Antelope Ranch (Coaches note: power and contact) Motorcycling headlong into July’s hot wind, I was nearly there when I turned onto a dirt road and rumbled fifteen miles over boulders and ditches strewn with whitewashed bones: antelope skeletons, scattered ribs, skulls bleached by sun. I was…
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TEAM FLAME, A Hermit Crab Essay in a baseball lineup card
Nine at bats BATTING THIRD Number 5, Third Base, Coal (Coaches note: the best hitter) In the lineup’s three hole, the hitter must have power and make contact. In the summer season of my life, when I was full of velocity and ambition, I was that power aiming for contact whenever heat met me and…
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TEAM FLAME, A Hermit Crab Essay in a Lineup Card
Nine at bats BATTING SECOND Number 4, Short Stop, Asphalt (Coaches note: the fastest runner) On desert rides heat is built into the asphalt like a burning memory. In the desert’s hot waves, I recall Midwest summers when ball fields baked under August suns and my heart learned how quickly it could burn and how…
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The Long Breath of Yoga Song
Yoga Song was built slowly over the years by breath, movement, roads, rituals, tears, silence, motorcycles, and practice. That practice continues, and with it, my writing at the intersections of motorcycles and yoga, spirituality and secularism, embodiment and intellect, labor and art, contemplative life and burning asphalt. What began as a personal practice slowly became…