The 60-Second Sabbath

Loss

  • Stopped Dead

    Stopped dead between headstones,dry leaves drifting over my shoes,I scan, rescan the engraved letters.This century-old epitaph could be mine. I feel like Scrooge sighting along the bony fingerof his future ghost. Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All… Continue reading

  • My Face

    My face,empty at the table like a white china plate,waits for supper.From the kitchen,silence. Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.   Continue reading

  • Welcome

    Why are you here? Did you come for transformation?Or to feel good? Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.   Continue reading

  • Abandon

    At any given momentyou are called to abandoneverything that has beenfor what is next. At every given moment–this one, for example–you are called to abandonevery actual or imagined thing that has ever, ever been,for what is next. At this moment…and… Continue reading

  • Today, Online

    Today,online,I searched for a wePhone,a wePadand a wePod.<sigh> Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.   Continue reading

  • Before

    Before you walked into the bar that Wednesday night,before you smiled and nodded,before you arrived at the table with your drink,before you broke open my heart to the renewed possibility of love,I had forgotten I was lacking you. Text and… Continue reading

  • The Ocean’s Unraveling

    Waves crumble on the beach;it is the ocean's unraveling.The sun's sterile glare chills me;I pull my dark-knit precepts more tightly about me. Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.   Continue reading

  • The Tree of Secrets

    The First Children,playing together in the Marvelous Garden,stop to restbeneath the laden branchesof the Tree of Secrets. What is this ripe, round, richly scented fruit? Eve,not yet knowing right from wrong,takes a sloppy bite.Adam,not yet knowing wrong from right,licks the… Continue reading

  • Body Image

    I feel fat today–unattractive, dumpy.Like those gray, formless cloud-lumps hanging over the foothills.Like that bulbous row of resource-sucking cottonwoods along the river.Like that annoying crow that caws, caws, caws    to keep everyone away from its road-kill dinner. Text and image ©… Continue reading

  • My Father the Artist

    A number of years ago, I imagined what my father (deceased) might say to me about creativity. He was, among other things, a watercolor artist. This is what I wrote at the time: "Dirk, it was never easy for me… Continue reading