A reverse abecedarian dedicated to our mortality and the transitions that capture us.

A death occurs and the funeral parlor receives a phone call. “Mom wanted a green burial, can you help us?” the voice nervously asks, unsure of themselves. What do you do as a funeral director? Are you able to ‘direct’ this type of arrangement?

The man with the sunken eyes Sits in his worn brown chair On maple court. He sinks down into the chair Sharing an understanding with the object That this is only temporary…

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved nature and connecting with other life forms. Laying in the grass looking up the massive tree trunks, counting their branches, admiring their leaves, their shadows dancing gracefully over the land as the wind blows…