Open in app

Sign In

Write

Sign In

Rick Chastain
Rick Chastain

45 Followers

Home

About

Jan 29, 2022

What He Knows

that only the mountains are true and only the sky is true far blue and far white and her far stars at night hear our stories, our stories, our stories that grief is the wound and sorrow the lance that heals the wound that he’ll never explain the breach of the whale or the cruelty of god that the deep river is always true taking us where and where we do not want to go

Loss

1 min read

What He Knows
What He Knows
Loss

1 min read


Aug 18, 2020

Supplicant

In the year of fire and fear when even the air has stopped breathing I have come to see the woods again to kneel beneath her waters, joined where the main creek and her sister join here there is dark spruce, tangled willow, darting minnow, and refuge again to ask all the questions but the wild ones say what they have always said sweep of wind rippling water clatter of rockfall silent deadfall osprey wing on water

1 min read

Supplicant
Supplicant

1 min read


Jul 14, 2020

Companions, Inseparable

I think we love any cord that binds us to family. From Night Orchard She drove an old Buick, down every dirt road in central Florida, and never once did she wash it. Each year was added a coat of the fine black dust that blows on the wind from…

Racism

6 min read

Companions, Inseparable
Companions, Inseparable
Racism

6 min read


Dec 4, 2019

Snake River, 2012

… “know that this day this sweet golden day this bright manly day (what we do with our days) is like the clear river ?” From Sheep Mountain, revisited There’s a light in the western mountains that comes at the end of the day. After the heat of the late…

Travel

3 min read

Snake River, 2012
Snake River, 2012
Travel

3 min read


Oct 4, 2019

Assembly

We have come to the Whitney our pasts inside us, silent like the dogwood flower A tableau of sculptures march the veranda, some small and assertive, some large and lethargic all migrants, ex-captives the clank of their chains still shuffles the High Line one foot fear, one foot courage one step fear, one step courage they join in assembly they tell of their bondage One figure, an ape of a figure big African lips, on his shoulder a bindle not of clothes or belongings but of empty food cans

Memories

1 min read

Assembly
Assembly
Memories

1 min read


Mar 2, 2019

Sheep Mountain, revisited

We bought the old place for it’s reach to the woods and it’s true… a step from the door and on to the trail that winds through the waiting aspen is to enter the place where the boundary awaits where the rusted sign says “please latch the gate” … and to hear the land speak of unfinished days. There’s a corner-tree there back deep in the woods a spruce, near eight feet around, and girded by strands of forgotten barbed wire.

Poetry

1 min read

Sheep Mountain, revisited
Sheep Mountain, revisited
Poetry

1 min read


Jan 29, 2019

bearer, to the new generation

If all of the metal were melted down in this foothills town all the rails with their whispers of longed-for arrivals all the nails holding our bones upright all the girder and truss and our hard love for safety all our fence, all our fears standing sentry at night The blood moon arises the seeing stars know the sleeping town murmurs of snow —

1 min read

bearer, to the new generation
bearer, to the new generation

1 min read


Nov 20, 2018

those who travel by land

There’s a band of thin light at the curve of the world reaching into the forest, flowing over the sage rising with the still blue morning, bringing the day’s portion of earthly grace. You may lie here for only a moment, rest only as long, to be living again. You can get there only by running, you may only arrive empty handed. __

Transformation

1 min read

to travel by land
to travel by land
Transformation

1 min read


Sep 13, 2018

This, before I leave you

At first, I had trouble with freedom. My eyes kept returning to the same nighttime window my ears to the same worn assertions. This morning, the wild elk are singing the sagebrush is turning the willow are burning the snow geese are gathered their flight down the river. -—

Recovery

1 min read

This, before I leave you
This, before I leave you
Recovery

1 min read


Jun 8, 2018

A Silent Sojourn

There’s a town nearby I’ve loved my whole life. It sits by the river, the only choice for a western town, in a valley of sagebrush and piñon and too little rain. There are high mountains to the west, so beautiful in the morning light, so imperious and purple. …

Short Story

4 min read

A Silent Sojourn
A Silent Sojourn
Short Story

4 min read

Rick Chastain

Rick Chastain

45 Followers

Read. Write. Love the wilderness.

Following
  • Fox Kerry

    Fox Kerry

  • Matthew B.

    Matthew B.

  • Gio Dk

    Gio Dk

  • Rowen Veratome

    Rowen Veratome

  • DiAmaya Dawn

    DiAmaya Dawn

See all (130)

Help

Status

Writers

Blog

Careers

Privacy

Terms

About

Text to speech