KRISTOPHER     DRUMMOND

Last night I tried to sleep in a tin-sided shepherd’s hut on the rugged northern edge of Iona, an island off the west coast of Scotland and Christian pilgrim...

My heart is broken. I realize it in slow motion, however. Busy days blanket over the truth. Projects keep me rushing; rushing for the sweet serotonin hit o...

Digging in, to die. Reversing the spin of misplaced orbit, interrupting the cynical cycles of restless yearning. A pause is eternity, is permanent; irreversi...

If, if I could wind The rusty hinges of your clock Back to the place, the beginning, where the numbers disappear and the hands rest forever, I would. If I co...

September: Most notable for the Green Day song that encourages an month-long nap. For other reasons, it's become one of my favorite months. As I write, I'm s...

Your mom's garden is incredible, old buddy.  It's really thriving this year.  The corn is taller than her--although that's not saying much.  She and your p...

It’s strange to watch a tree die.  It happens slow, over the course of years.  You have to be in the same place, geographically speaking, for a long time ...