Want is a thing that unfurls unbidden like fungus, opening large upon itself, stopless, filling the sky. But needs, from one day to the next, are fewer enough to fit in a bucket, with room enough left to rattle like brittlebush in a dry wind.
— Barbara Kingsolver from High Tide in Tucson: Essays from Now or Never (1995)
NOTE
Photos Crook County Oregon, late March 2022, a filling-the-sky country entangled in "Exceptional" Drought. I wonder, how in our gage of things unfolding as Exceptional exceeds Extreme? I wonder, how when do Words collapse under the gravity of unknowing? -DB
CODA: Poem by Jaime de Angulo ((1887–1950) in Coyote's Bones:
Coyote, ululating on the hill,
is it my fire that distresses you so?
Or the memories of long ago
when you were a man roaming the hills.
