Author Archives: janishaag

In the beauty of holiness,like dew from the womb of the morning,in silence and mystery,I have begotten you. —verse adapted from Psalms 110 ••• Beauty arrives every day,the holiest of things shrouded in silence and mystery, emergingfrom the womb of … Continue reading →

Dear Mr. Ross: I wish I could have been therea century ago, sitting in what I imaginewas your decidedly un-hip apartment,you brainstorming from a sprawling,padded armchair, your wife Janeat the typewriter—the two of youbirthing a magazine with input fromassorted writer … Continue reading →

When putting up a fence, consider addinga potential opening—maybe a gatethat doubles as a doorway, swinging in, swinging out to allow access.Or perhaps build an entire wall of doorsthat might open and shut at will, each different from its neighbor,each … Continue reading →

A departure for today… instead of a poem, a reminiscence of our friend and former Sacramento Bee colleague Walt Wiley, who died July 13. Sending much love and gratitude to him and to his many loved ones, especially his devoted … Continue reading →

Perhaps it’s the tree of my dreamsgrown larger, the horizontal branchesthat cradled me now softened by memory. Or is it the dreaming tree, that long gone,leaning oak in my childhood back yard?I have known many other trees, loved plenty of … Continue reading →

It feels as if you’re being given an extra life to live.—Dara Barrois/Dixon* Or maybe it’s the third or fourth or hundredth chance—you’ve lost track, as you should. Doesn’t matter. It feels as if you’ve been given an extra life … Continue reading →

With a headline like that, how could I not click on it?I mean, I could start my own list: The I’m-growing-hair-where? places—The top of my right hand, on my big toes. The it-aches-why? spots, and don’t get mestarted on all … Continue reading →

Serenity Hills, 1981 In my dreams I’m there,scuffing my way over blackened earthstill smelling of scorch,of the fire days earlier that clearedevery foot of open space of rolling landscapewhere I was about to live. Somehow the neighbors got their horses … Continue reading →

The neighborhood weighs in,the online chat buzzinglike old-fashioned phone wires: Good morning! Does anyone know whathappened to Imogene, the homeless womanwho lived in the park? The responses zing with speculation,and what they lack in precise spellingreveals a level of concern … Continue reading →

Though I thought I did so years ago,I am walking away from that houseonce bound in anger and argument,where the two in charge stayed embroiled, even on the daythe first of them died, wherethe one who remained triedto argue with … Continue reading →