Author: admin

It takes trust to ride your bike
on Silverado Trail

You and I
We play War
With broken-heart cards

Head, flippers, tail and shell—
you, helmeted sea creature
who swims beneath me in
this turquoise, Caribbean sea.

Here’s a plate, a fork, a glass,
Chew on my last supper.

My father once told me that to see in the dark
I had to look away

Before tractors, Ayman plowed fields with his team and made
lewd advances on his daughter-in-law, my grandmother Louise.

Our dog bit Margie Buskirk, our dearest
and oldest friend

There are so many gates:
thatched brown gates that open to rice fields,
white wooden gates to keep in the dogs,
wrought-iron black gates to castles,
gates that open like mouths
gates that slam shut and lock,
gate of heaven to shut me out.

on Easter morning, I wonder
what I’m doing in New Zealand
instead of being home in Seattle
with my son.