“Home is where our heart is,” my mother often told me; “The house we live in is just a shell.” The reality of this really hit when I was part of one of California’s natural disasters. The types of natural disasters my...
Read MoreDay hangs on like a desperate lover clutching the slightest threads of light, hoping to postpone the impending darkness. I watch until all hope is crushed, and everything that was the bright world fades slowly like a blindness....
Read MoreAlmost thirty years retired, and Fridays still bring that sudden elevation of my spirit. Time undesignated cat-stretches into a blank future waiting to be filled by any sudden whimsy. Things useful can be put aside in favor of...
Read MoreWe stand today in a riot’s wreckage on steps carved by slave labor on land stolen from its residents. We pledged allegiance to a constitution written by the time’s best minds for a people who despise intelligence. We provide...
Read MoreNot the white flakes mounded in soft drifts on picture post cards but the brown blizzard of oak leaves cascading from their stems, pushed into the void by new life surging up through every twig. They cloud the air in windy...
Read MoreWhen we knew the asteroid was coming, The killer asteroid, We knew it would be the end of us, All of us, Even the inhabitants of the space station, Although they would be the last to go. What a vision they would behold, The...
Read MoreMy sister lives on an exoplanet orbiting a different star a gigantic star filled with parties and projects committees and cocktails a calendar crammed as full as a drawer of solo socks whose partners were lost in the laundry By...
Read MoreMy GPS directs me along the shortest distance between two points the quickest way from A to B showing shortcuts around closures, traffic jams and wild turkeys crossing I rely on my GPS like the rising sun unless point A is the...
Read MoreWe are that one grain of sand in the desert. Alan Lightman, Probable Impossibilities I stand alone on the scaffold of myself wind blowing back memories faded and familiar like old flannel shirts swallows wing past, dressed in...
Read MoreI just bought an eight-pack of bony Jesuses, an Amazon special, to be sure Jesus remembers this little lamb if I run a red light or ease through a stop sign as an 18-wheeler rolls through I also bought eight fuzzy rabbits’ feet...
Read MoreHours slip unslept. Grievances amass and there’s nothing but hope to counter cancer, covid, climate, war. We have mice in the walls. The furnace ticks on, the well water flushes, the dog shifts in the bed of the dog who is gone,...
Read MoreNoon. Even in our room with a swamp cooler going, it’s stifling. From our second story window, I look down at the space between our hotel and the building across the way, with its solid shade. The three are sitting on the...
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