Photography

  • I Sit

    Often, words are not the needed thing. Continue reading

  • Lot’s Wife

    So there she stands, saline statuary, salt-lick sculpture… Continue reading

  • Three Dresser Drawers

    She may take only what fits in three dresser drawers. Continue reading

  • Listen to Your Life

    "Listen to your life," advises Frederick Buechner. "Listen to what happens to you because it is through what happens to you that God speaks…" This is also what my friend Jim says. The morning we learned that our office was… Continue reading

  • Another Tale from the Garden of Eden

    "I'm running out of time," God says.He and the snake sitjust outside the garden gate."You assured meyou'd have them juicing that fruitby week's end." "Sorry, boss.Seems the simple life suits them."The snake's head bobs and sways as he talks."Sssatisfied.." What… Continue reading

  • Yet Another Ten Titles in Search of Their Poems

    Luminosity The Fourth Trimester Blubbermouth Chance Encounter Spiritual Edema Escape Claws Flies on the Face of Reason Giving the Devil a New Do Supplemental Flotation Forlornication Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.   Continue reading

  • Vigil II

    We hear the train rumble into the stationas we stand around the bedthat cradles the 90-year-old-womanwhom we call wife, mother, sister, friend. The wailing of the whistlesignals the train has stopped.We glance at one another:Is this an arrival or a… Continue reading

  • Vigil I

    There isn't a discrete momentwhen you say, with certainty,"There, that was death." Instead, there's the dawning realizationthat the next breath hasn't come,that at some point,somewhere in the last minute or two or three,something that had been there for decades,snuck past… Continue reading

  • Riding Home

    I am a child.I am in the backseat of my parent's pale-blue Plymouth.I am rocked asleep    with the drum of rain on the roof,    with the rythmic slap of the wipers,    with the certainty that fills warm spaces        as they hurtle along night's wet highways.… Continue reading

  • Dawn’s First Fingers

    Dawn's first fingersreach around our neighbor's houseand stroke the graying slatsof our tool shed. A small gray catpussyfoots her wayup the naked, broken trellisto the cracked, tacked, faded gray shingles of the roof.She faces the sun,raises one paw,licks it twice,settles… Continue reading