Saturday, December 31, 2011

Tall trees sway dizzily in the wind.
Nearer the ground,
the wildflowers


Thursday, December 29, 2011

The leftover leaves calculated
the strange geometry of their
precarious position.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Eternal silence describes the
between a
stone and its shadow

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Life is a farce in which human beings
come and go like inexplicable
smears on a mirror.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Love can be a prickly thing,
yet still bear beautiful fruit.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

I found a cloud caught
on a tree, but knew
no way to set
it free.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

More than simply functional, a manhole cover is street art
that is embossed with geometric or more curvaceous
designs and is experienced as a disc-like sculpture
beneath our feet.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Tenants living in the basement apartment
complain that their view is scissored
by the legs of passersby.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Raindrops paint spreading circles in shades of
green and silver on the pond's surface
in a display of natural performance art.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

A couple of shivering cottonwood trees
bend in the wind and rattle
their leaves.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Spiders tally their victims each morning
on an ingenious abacus strung with
silk strands and beads of dew.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

An elderly couple twisted around in their seats
to glare with mute disapproval upon the
disruptive hilarity of the teenagers
in the back of the theater.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Man's true nature was revealed when he replaced pure air,
clean water, and extensive old grow forests with
strip joints, strip malls, and strip mines.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Plastic cavalry soldiers scout the sweeping plains
of the blanket on the bed until a mountain range
is forced up by bent legs, and the riders are
trapped in a labyrinth of canyons
with no way out.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Staring up from a crushed skull in a broken and
half devoured corpse, a grounded owl's
sightless eye looks into mine.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Lichen is the colorful spackle on the crumbling stone bench,
the crusty stucco coating branches in a brush pile,
and the vibrant texture on the living tree.


Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Humankind straddles the natural world defiantly,
just like obscene graffiti is boldly written across
the facade
of a revered monument.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Murmuring and moving dreamily,
the creek seems almost asleep
in its bed.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

No living thing has personal experience with its ways.
Its artfulness lives in death, a blending of loss and

terrible beauty. We know it only as decay.

(photo of the underside of a rotting mushroom)

Friday, September 23, 2011

The restricted nesting area of the Terns
is like the gated 'bedroom community'
of the human beings

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Milkweed seeds have perfect little
gossamer parachutes made
milkweed silk.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Psychics are deluded individuals with 
the peculiar notion that they can
serve as spiritual correspondents.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Silvery sun brushed blades of grass
and whispers of a breeze

tempt you out into the open
from the darkness of the trees.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Made of solid stone, an epic poem is composed by a
size XL ego; but, there is hope that with exactitude
the wasted words can be dislodged and a
small stone left standing in its place.
My past is present when memory
is scented by the perfume of Spring
lilacs and the smokiness of
burning Autumn leaves.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Something about the sound of a solitary automobile
passing down a deserted rain slick street
in the middle of the night
speaks of desolation.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Curiously sweet meat can come
from creatures whose lives
are lived in brine.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Gaunt reminders of time's passage
are caught in the sere grass
at the edge of the path.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Silent, drifting, insulating, crystalline, white,
wet, and cold are only some of the aspects
of the fast approaching 

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Soft breezes have disarranged
the long green ribbons
of grass.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Colorful autumn leaves
are like shards of a shattered
stained glass window that
land at my feet.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

No person hears a tree scream,
but as a sentinel post apocalypse,
the evidence of pain is in the tortured
posture that remains.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Three centuries ago most sailors spent their
lives in a wooden world upon the sea,
yet seldom came to appreciate
the lovely landlocked trees.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The way through depression is down a
foggy street where all appears drab
and colorless, and detail
cannot be distinguished.

Monday, August 15, 2011

There is a false sense of security in knowing
window glass holds back the
darker blue of night.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Why not see the frayed rope as a gnarled and fibrous wave
that has crashed on a beachhead

of hemp!

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

A synchronized flock of Plovers circled
over the mudflats, anticipating
the mysterious signal

to land.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

I get only enough sleep to
keep me just this side
of insanity.

Monday, August 8, 2011

The sun rose from the sea in silence; but,
the gulls began their day
at the beach by squabbling
over breakfast.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

A cagey negotiator of sharp spines,
the Cactus Wren longs to find
his prey already impaled
and ready to be eaten.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Hungry imagination transformed
dry blossoms into crunchy
caramel corn.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Monday, August 1, 2011

Dockside, the bare poles of the sailboats
imitate the naked trees

of winter.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Why do you end the conversation
as soon as I spot a flaw
in your argument?

Saturday, July 30, 2011

The sky is patched with ragged
clouds that let the blue

leak through.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Like the lengthy shadows of
late afternoon, imagined wrongs
can seem very significant.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Whale song summons a listening attitude,
not one that is insistent or obtrusive.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

To interpret a speed limit sign as
indicating the minimum speed allowed

rather than the implied maximum,
is to show little concern for prolonging life.

Monday, July 25, 2011

A flock of sparrows arranged
themselves along the top
of the chain link fence

like little feathered finials.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

An unfortunately timed yawn
can bring a romantic moment

to an abrupt end.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

This road was not paved
with good intentions, just
dust and shadows.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Every public park hides evidence
of the phantom presence
of the homeless.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

In rough seas, each overhanging crest
of a wave wears an even nastier scowl
on its face than its predecessor.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Googie architecture decorates
many of my stranger

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

It is two a.m. and my brain is inflamed.
I thought to extinguish it with the ink from my pen,
but it only fueled the fire.

Monday, July 18, 2011

An ornate frame
may be preferable to that
which it contains.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Modern art exists in everyday life.

(note: photo is of a bolt securing a light pole to its base and was shot from directly overhead. Color is true)

Saturday, July 16, 2011

A buoy tethered in a turbulent
ocean of indigo colored waves
breaks the silence.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Magnificent sounds bursting
from the huge pipe organ
cudgel me sensuously.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Sunday was so foggy it was as if
the landscape had been masked out
with liquid frisket.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Many small stones
can be found within a
mountain of words.

Monday, July 11, 2011

I looked out my window this morning
and cried, because the blinds had
sliced the sky to ribbons.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Keep pen and paper by your bedside,because the creative impulse is like sickness;
It can wake you up in the middle of the night
searching for a place to spew your insides.
Impaling an earthworm on a fish-hook
leaves both of us squirming.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Footprints found
where two paths cross were
those of passing strangers.

Friday, July 8, 2011

B-17 Flying Fortresses and B-24 Liberators
had ball turrets that bulged

like a frog's eyes.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Weekdays the shopping mall is less like a
shrine to conspicuous consumption,
and more like an Old West ghost town.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Thanks to Laura Ashley,
I sleep in a flowerbed.
Cold fear follows the significant crack
occurring beneath my feet as I
cross the frozen lake.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Grandma's house smelled of both
freshly baked bread and the
fustiness of old age.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Main Street is only four short blocks
in length, with an enormous expanse
of windswept prairie at either end.
There are those with a predominant
color in their wardrobe; the more Gothic

are preoccupied with black.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Vanity won't exaggerate its
wrinkles by smiling
very much.
Some artists reduce their reality
to color at the expense of the other
constituent elements.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Automobile showrooms are
dumb shows of machines
with no concept of velocity.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Black beetle scuttled through the dust
narrowly eluding the ominous waffle tread
of a hiker's boot.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Many a kindergarten student 
succumbs to the urge
to taste the paste.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

I am continually amazed by the
ingenious comings and goings of
escalator steps.

Friday, June 24, 2011

On the bluffs above the salt marsh,
even the most sober are intoxicated by the perfume
of sea and sage.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

The artistry on the forest floor
can surpass that of the finest
designer tile.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Elegant flight is a struggle
for a little bird with a
big twig.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Hot and humid summer afternoons
are more pleasantly spent in the cool and

softly illuminated inner sanctum of
a library.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Sometimes it is not possible
to discern the nature
of reality.

Geologic time
makes the snail's pace
seem swift.

Chili on top of a hamburger
is a sloppy proposition.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Ours was a summer morning
drunk on sunlight
the color of

Sunday, June 5, 2011

The air is filled with cottonwood seeds
drifting down slowly through the sunlight
as softly and silently as snow.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Bedsheets on the clothesline
on a windy day signal like

Sunday, May 29, 2011

is the mind's
reverse gear.

Few first lines
hold more promise than,
"Once upon a time..."

Discordant words
don't flow. 
They snag.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

One wooded acre
can recite a thousand

fascinating stories.

A resting swimmer rises,
and a wet impression
on the rock remains.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The tensile strength of spider silk
makes the hummingbird's nest
more flexible.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Saturday, May 14, 2011

A leaf
holds water
for a thirsty bird.

photo by Barbara Boethling

Thursday, May 12, 2011

As clever as the clam thinks he was
by hiding beneath the sand,
his position was betrayed
by an air bubble.

Chirping birds
perched on the old rooftop antenna,
and converted an obsolete object
into one of new value.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

What does the sky think
when she looks into the mirror of the lake
and sees herself?

A small shadow
has filled in the fox's footprint
in the snow.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Birch bark curls,unfurled,
make splendid sails
for little twig boats.

Bushwhacking for photos
necessitates old holey jeans
and the ratty t-shirt
with a monkey on the front.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Watch as the master baker demonstrates
the marvelous shapes his dough
can take.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

elm seeds glisten
when they stick to a
rain slick sidewalk

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Small children wearing rubber rain boots
are magnetically attracted
to puddles.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Sunlight laughs
and playfully
slides down the gentle curve
of every blade of grass.
Passion and reproductive potential
are embodied in ripe fruit,
and are expressed by means of
the subtle insinuation
of  a seductive scent.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

leafless branches
eagerly telegraph
their encrypted communiques
in crisp little clicks and clacks

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sunlight filtering through
a gap in the curtains
burnishes the nutshells
to a rich mahogany.
Succumbing to temptation
is not necessarily
a mistake.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Snow falls
so silently, that
I am momentarily convinced
of my own deafness.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I will define
a cataract;
the naturally occurring analogue
of a frosted pane
of glass.
the textured exterior
of Ethel's refrigerator
resembles a schematic
of the Amazonian river system

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Monday, April 11, 2011

Buds are starting to swell
on branches still bare;
yet, at the end of a single twig
a tiny flower has
opened alone.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

the horizon line.
The darkness
of night
erases it.

Friday, April 8, 2011

today's frustrations
settled to the bottom
of my wine glass
with the dregs

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

our old stone
is hosting
the ablutions of the
local sparrows

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

the studio
table from

Monday, April 4, 2011

Sunday, April 3, 2011

My large
has a hidden
lever to
the unsuspecting

Friday, April 1, 2011

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Welcome to my blog devoted completely to the short written form known as a "small stone."  As you may know, this form is, by definition, a polished moment of paying proper attention to the world around us, i. e. , a precise capturing of a moment where you and your senses are fully engaged. Though there are no strict rules, it is important to remember the process by which you arrive at the polished stone is as important as the finished product. Try it yourself by writing one a day to start. You will soon begin to discover there is a marvelous richness and depth to your world you never noticed before! Let's begin.

some faces,
   soft leather

window screens
consist of
empty space

beneath a leaf
held to the light
tiny tributary streams
feed the river
in the stem

photo by Barbara Boethling