Face down. Ass up. That’s the way I like to…
ream a feature in a 50x50x50 cm survey pit.
The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.
Ernest Hemingway (via larmoyante)
(Source: larmoyante, via inkilometers)
Yellow-throated warbler. Call me the master of birds.
3 days ago - 
43
43Photo 1: ‘MURRICA
Photo 2: Rice w/ conch, fried mullet, avocado, and curry. Drink is a prickly pear margarita w/ blue agave nectar and devil’s walking cane.
Photo 3: Archaeology crew on the beach.
Photo 4: Ghost crab w/ cigarette butt.
Photo 5: Scarlett’s mound (the site we’re digging on this year).
5 days ago - 30
30Pixel
I shattered the sunset
just last night…Fog banks rolled in,
creating caricatures
of homes forever lost.The storm was fierce
(a hurricane at best).I just hope
the clapboards of once was
will be found —hopefully somewhere
within yourself.
5 days ago - 59
59 I’m going on another dig for the next month. Please stick around – I’ll post when I can. However, I can not promise anything due to our spotty internet connection. Should I start a second blog based on logging our day-to-day finds? I really don’t think anyone would find that interesting, actually. Anywho, holla!
1 week ago - 16
16 Gleaner
The rose-breasted grosbeak
stared over the edge of the bluff
wishing for his turn to fly;
his turn to finally be free.
His wings were clipped
and mutilated, and his
permeating, prominent colors
acted like a mirror to the sunset.
“I’m too weak,”
he thought to himself while
watching the swallows and terns
spin through the air like ribbons.
He wished to glide the oceans
as the jaegers and pelicans
had done for thousands of years
before he was born.
Then he realized:
the art of flight
is not as beautiful
as the art of personality.
He then froze in place
letting the sunbeams scorch
his ever-lasting luminosity
into the iron sands of the seaside cliff.
His legendary coat of arms
still resides that place
where he finally found himself —
a plaque to all of those
who feel like giving up.
1 week ago - 55
55 Cinco de Mayo — Patrick & I. Enjoy.
1 week ago - 5
5 Pixel
I shattered the sunset
just last night…
Fog banks rolled in,
creating caricatures
of homes forever lost.
The storm was fierce
(a hurricane at best).
I just hope
the clapboards of once was
will be found —
hopefully somewhere
within yourself.
1 week ago - 59
59 
Emergent Seas
I counted my steps
as I crossed the jetty,
seeing fish as they lept
from rockside to rockside
before they slept
in the cold, dark depths
on the outskirts of the island
where the lighthouse guides
as the seagulls glide.
The path I chose was
different from before,
but the last time I walked
I came from the shore.
The rocks fit like puzzle pieces
next to the fishing boats
that were moored;
and this time they pointed
south instead of north.
I, too, found myself puzzled
as I observed the combinations
of the rocks and ways
I could have rather swayed,
but the path I chose
seemed to be right
for the last time I travelled,
the day was dark as night.
Driftwood
You hadn’t seen a sky
until you saw through my eyes
I hadn’t heard a whimper
until I heard your cries
I hadn’t seen a Summer
since we last said “goodbye”
but I have seen a Winter
in which you never died
I’ve always found beauty
in the mystery of the scallop.
It serves as a reminder
of my past, fleeing from
the fish that should have
taken me long ago.
I can see my own reflection
in the ridges of its shell
and feel my own soul
crushed in shoals and swells.
Everything seems to be in order…
