The Caravan Blog

Yesterday Blue sky and clouds roll beneath the wings of a plane. Suitcases roll past an airport table, past tarmac playing out its...

Purpose, poetry, and prose.

Image courtesy of MystiChakra Each day for about an hour I lose my mind and try to escape existence.   I abandon my center charge towards...

Originally published in Crazyhorse 94 , Fall 2018. This is a love story. There. I’ve begun. I have set the words down neatly, as we used...

You know how certain places are holders? Like they store pieces of you you didn’t even realize you were shedding? Even if you meant to go scorched earth, leave nothing behind?

Sitka Spruce in the Tongass rainforest Juneau, 2013 When we piled out into the dust and cool of the morning, we were barely a...