Author Archives: janishaag

(In memory of my father) Driving down H Street, I seea man at the curb, rake in hand, and another man’s voice comes to me:I can pray just fine raking the leaves, though he really said this about mowing,not being … Continue reading →

A pair of young, wiry men work overmy front yard for several days withhands both strong and gentle, lifting this earth that was once partof their homeland—long before theirexistence or mine as a native Californian— for the 27 years when … Continue reading →

Walking behind the young man pausedbefore the sliced meats in the grocery store, I felt my feet skid to a stop at the sight ofthe back of his head, the sandy blond hair curling down to his collar, the style … Continue reading →

(Irish: happiness, joy) ••• Sonas ort, the Irish say,happiness on you,my Irish friend tells me, and in her lilt, I long forthe voice of my Irishgrandfather, who could turn on a brogue in an instant.Would he have known “sonas”?Of course, … Continue reading →

The first all-day rainy day calls fordonning the plum rain boots as you head out for afternoon errands,reminding yourself how to drive on slick streets, to come to carefuland complete stops before proceeding. Though you have things to do, you … Continue reading →

We are all hurling through space on a rock,and we’re all going to die. You would thinkwe could be holding hands and singing.—John Bradshaw ••• Give me your hand. Here’s mine.Whatever we think makes us differentis not as important as … Continue reading →

Though the weather has notchilled enough to holler Soup!,on November’s first Sunday night, after chopping up the Holy Trinityof Soup, as my friend Lisa taught me—celery, carrots and onion— I dig out the new big pot, locatethe olive oil and … Continue reading →

Now that time has fallen backan hour, I drive down L Streetshaking my head at the treesstill swathed in green, the leavesstuck tight to the precise spotswhere they were born. In other parts of this hemisphere,their brethren have already taken … Continue reading →

I love me some homophones, thoughnot the kind at home that once pluggedinto the wall, and not bipedal primates, but words that sound the samebut are spelled differently,each unique in meaning, which creates problems for folksboth familiar with and new … Continue reading →

Write good poems and let go of them. Publish them, read them, go on writing.—Natalie Goldberg, from “Writing Down the Bones” ••• Buddhist monks train for years to createintricate mandalas of colorful sand,spending days of meditative work to painstakingly build … Continue reading →