Author Archives: janishaag

When she sees people duck out of sight as she comes toward them,it occurs to her that they might worry about being the subject of a future poem, which—as in her days as a journalist,always trolling for stories—they might be. … Continue reading →

Ages ago, a big orange catused to hoist himself up behind my father’s headresting in his recliner, crowning the man we loved,the only one who could apply eye medicine toBig Red’s baby greens, the trusting kitty who’d goboneless in my … Continue reading →

The one in my backyard, the moon’spregnant face inching each nightinto her roundest form, preparing to spit out baby stars,before shrinking back to herslender self, then disappearing before starting her cycle again.Here in my city yard I see few stars,must … Continue reading →

I thought that’s what the subject line saidas I skimmed my list of incoming email. Yoga for chickens? Is there downward bird?And kundalini yoga at that, which is said to “provide deep healing by releasing any traumafrom the energetic body.” … Continue reading →

Eager eater that you are,you just pop them in your mouth,greedy for the flood of sweeton your tongue. But when a guest in someone’shome and given baskets of Bingsto cut and combine in a bowl,you are handed the pitter, vaguely … Continue reading →

Because you asked me to postthis photo of the two of usall mortarboard-ed up like so manyof the students we nurturedto graduations, many of whom didn’t thinkthey’d make it—some of whomwe didn’t think would make it— I’m reminded of your … Continue reading →

(for Dad’s birthday… and Mom, too) Having no idea if you’re even you anymore,gone these 21 years, it occurs to me thatif there is still something of you, the him, there might still be something of she, the her.And perhaps, … Continue reading →

I wanted to know,whoever I was, I wasalivefor a little while. —Mary Oliverexcerpt from “Dogfish,” from Dream Work © 1986, Penguin ••• One way to know you’re aliveis to use the body you were given— though you had no say … Continue reading →

For a week now, I have risenas the sky begins to pinken,to gently pull aside the windowshadeand see the collective of thirteen soaring pines downslopestanding at attention overthe Hood Canal. I look atthe half-finished upper deck that Al is building … Continue reading →

Which seems like a lot—the most I’ve ever hadin this lifetime— but not nearly as manyas the longtime lodgersperched on this hillside, long-trunked and denselybranched evergreens thathave logged perhaps two or three times mynumber of years. No wayto know until … Continue reading →