Lay of the Land
RUNNING SOUTH of the turquoise eye of Mono Lake just east of the Sierra’s steep escarpment are hills that once hissed and groaned, gushed fountains of pumice and ash and sticky Continue reading →
Lay of the Land
Wheelchairs in wild spaces shouldn’t be an anomaly some thirty years since the Americans with Disabilities Act. Continue reading →
Lay of the Land
Grief lives in the body; crip grief lives in the crip body. And I am working out my crip grief by moving in a crip way on this land, on this trike. Continue reading →
Lay of the Land
MY HOMETOWN of Bellingham, Washington, is a last corner of the continental United States, a final chew of land before the long drink of the Pacific. We’re bound to the west by Continue reading →
Lay of the Land
I had lost the writer part of me who could pull meaning, maybe even art, up out of events and float it over the words. I stopped trying. Continue reading →