Chris Yokel is a freelance writer, independent musician, published poet, avid movie watcher, amateur photographer, voracious reader, music junkie, and connoisseur of chai tea. He holds his B.A. in Philosophy and his M.A. in English. You can read his various musings and keep up with his poetry and music at www.chrisyokel.com. Chris lives in Fall River, Massachusetts.
Lately I have wondered whether, in our consumer-driven, individualistic society, taste hasn’t started to get the better of us.
The wall of stones marches on, straight as an arrow into the infinity of forest. It does not care for tree or trail, for it was here before their birth. It stands as a mark of Adam’s dominion flowing through New England farmers’ veins. Like human bulldozers they wrestled with stone to make an [...]
The artist is one who must stand at the still point of a turning world and simply watch, and in watching, see.
I have come to untwist myself, to become unbent, to be alive and to groan, knowing that to groan is to hope for the end of the aching.
“I tend to think of [the island] it as a symbolic microcosm of the world itself, and the struggles of life that we face.”
I used to feel like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, stuck in a crummy little town, bursting to get out and see the world.
“Everything dies, baby that’s a fact, but maybe everything that dies someday comes back.”
And there in front of you, as you are whipped by the winds, is a window, framed softly by curtains, and inside is a light on a side table, and next to it a comfortable chair.