Author Archives: janishaag

For Alma, who escaped the Camp Fire with her life but not her home Porches, steps and all, except some concrete ones left blackened, broken off like old teeth, not to mention flower pots and the last gasp of roses … Continue reading →

Now and again this old print journalist steps into radioland and puts her voice out on the airwaves. I did that very thing this morning when the smoke from a still-uncontrolled fire that has taken most of the town of … Continue reading →

What the dead don’t know piles up like crusty sycamore leaves falling from the enormous tree in the backyard, nearly a century old now, just a sapling when Aunt Estelle told the men from the city to plant the youngster in … Continue reading →

So after I posted a new poem today, I got this from my ace supporter/partner/arbiter of taste: I did a little quick online research, and apparently WordPress has attached ads to some website/blog posts since 2006. But Dick (aka, arbiter … Continue reading →

  Kintsugi: “to join with gold,” the Japanese practice in which broken or damaged pottery is reassembled and glued back together with gold-powdered lacquer When they opened your chest, when a masked surgeon held your stilled heart, as the team … Continue reading →

There has been so much difficulty in the greater world this past week, not to mention what’s happening to our own little boats bobbing around on turbulent seas. So many of us have had a tough time between fresh losses … Continue reading →

I have now lived six decades on this planet, through the tail end of the years when the evil weed was illegal and being so freaked out by the notion of smoking anything that I went the other direction if … Continue reading →

(for Christine, in memory of Carolyn Ralston) We regret to inform you that you are now a member of the club without a name, without membership cards or handshakes or even a commemorative pin, but there are dues, and you … Continue reading →

(for RDS) My love, temporarily booted, his Achilles tendon aching, asks for help tidying up his tiny courtyard. On Monday, after a weekend of sloth, I arrive ready to tug sprigs of privet that have summered nicely in the happy … Continue reading →

for marie (1951–2018) after steven died, you would show up on occasional friday nights for my creative writing class, the one you, my favorite local poet, could have taught, arrive without poem or pen, saying you just wanted to sit. … Continue reading →