Bruce K. Northern

On a constant journey of exploration and redefinition, writing and singing my way through a messy and beautiful world.


Awake at the Big Bend

It was about 3 AM when I woke up, unzipped the tent and looked up, forever changing my relationship with the cosmos…


Boquillas Rhapsody

Rolling on the Big Rio


He was horse-knee deep in the warm brown water, riding his way back across after collecting the dollars earned from the…


Shovels in the Ground

America’s Pressing Need for Renewed Infrastructure


It’s everything we walk and talk on, what keeps us warm at night


Awake at the Big Bend

It was about 3 AM when I woke up, unzipped the tent and looked up, forever changing my relationship with the cosmos…


Brotherhood of the Sparrow


  1. Now.

When he squinted real hard, and stared way off toward the horizon, it almost looked like he was home. Not that he was, or had ever been. The closest he’d known to a home for years were these stinking Doc Marten steel-toes that needed a fresh wrap of duct tape, and the bedroll now strapped across his shoulder.


Life Without Toby

It’s been a long December


I met Toby during an extended jam session/house party in an apartment across from his in South Austin.


The Roar

Can we survive without quiet time?


I remember afternoons as a kid in the 1960's, when the entire universe of my awareness was the sun and wind on my face and the dreams in my head.

I've watched my sons as they've grown. The first, 13 years older than his brother, caught the initial wave of the transition. As a child in the Eighties, he grew…