The Narrative Image

Long Island - as seen from the WNWRH boat ramp The bulletin board at the Willapa National Wildlife Refuge Headquarters’ parking lot had a tide table posted, but it was for December, and I was already more than a week into January. The tide table itself was a marvel of graphic economy: For each day, a vertical sunrise and sunset line were superimposed over two mismatched blue humps in a space the size of a postage stamp, ostensibly to give an approximate idea of when the bay’s water would be high or low. I tried to divide the space between the lines into twelve units and pick the one that correlated with the high point of the blue graphic, but reckoned my margin of error might be a range of nearly six hours. Then, because I didn’t really know how much the tides shifted each day, I suspected that the unhelpful range I was considering (based as it was on an expired table) was really nothing more than wishful thinking. Sitting in my packed kayak, poised in the water at...

Spring – Summer – Autumn – Winter ...the pattern of life rehearsed year after year. I remember the life force within me used to be independent of the seasons, as if in my youth, I remained in an extended perpetual Spring. But now, the crisp cold autumn affects me. My limbs seem brittle like seared red leaves poised to fall into decay. The rich muck of decay… …smells like money… … or poop… …and occasionally, so do I. Into the blue again/into the silent water Under the rocks and stones/there is water underground Letting the days go by/into the silent water Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground Same as it ever was... Same as it ever was... …TALKING HEADS Edge of Smith and Bybee Lake – Low clouds drifting in the Willamette Valley beyond… Smith and Bybee Lake The sun, the source of life, visits only briefly and does not linger. The long night sets in. Sandy River Ice glyphs ...