Hello, I’m Jeremy Beaudry. Welcome to my place. Words, photos, drawings et cetera.*
* It's a work in progress.
From the desk of
Saturday laid out like a buffet table — sweet or savory?
Words feel different in the morning sunlight.
Venetian blinds of Vermont.
Fitz the house cat presides like a Sphinx.
Chimeras and half-humans run the autocracy.
Political concepts keep breaking apart at the feet of our real lives.
de Certeau: “the practice of everyday life.”
The bedside table cannot hold everything I need for rest.
New music comes to me, unexpectedly, like a butterfly to my shoulder.
I struggle to impart the lessons I’ve learned to my children.
What are you thinking right now?
Sometimes, declarative sentences — singular, muscular even — are the best we can do.
I’ve forgotten the names of the house plants.
Speaking Spanish to think like someone else.
Lichen on snow
I step out and listen for the chickadees, smell the earth beneath the snow melt, wrap my arms around the sunshine, and greet the change.
Night paces
Knitting at night
She is knitting at night. Her back is turned to me because she is keeping the cat company, who is dozing on the sofa. Her companion. Her audience. The click of the needles keeps time. My pencil slides over the tooth of the paper, searching for contours and volumes. The two of us keep focus. She, on yarn and pattern and movement. Me, on strands of wheat silk, draped cloth, and folds.
4 haiku
Snow piled in mounds.
Protective layer, perhaps,
To buffer the fear.
–
Cold cracks hands, face, ears.
Snow sounds different, strained.
I still ski the trail.
–
I heard cardinal,
chickadee calling to sun
grace this world, love us.
–
Something just over
the ridge, looming like fire,
licking snow and ice.
Two thousand twenty-five