Author Archives: janishaag

How different it looks,day to night, night to day,as I see it for myself for the first time, the tallspire arrowing into the sky,a iron-and-steel tribute to what was that awfulyear when you disappearedin a whoosh six months before the … Continue reading →

Is not octopi.It’s octopuses. Because you can’t stick a Latin endingon a Greek word,and octopus is as Greek as Achilles, oktṓpous, the singular creature, andoktṓpodes amounting to more than oneof the cephalopods, whose very name translates to “eight legs,”though the … Continue reading →

(for Curtis… and my mother) It goes back to the college boyfriendwith the vision impairment who taughtme to always cap the toothpaste,never to leave a clear glass in the sink,and always tuck sharp knives intothe mini butcher block on the … Continue reading →

Before you go,let me do so again: I love youI love youI love youI love youI love youI love youI love youIloveyou. (Je t’aime. Te quiero. Ti amo.Aloha nui loa—all my love) ThankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouThankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou. (Muchas gracias. Arigato. Danke.Mahalo nui loa—thank you … Continue reading →

(for Catherine O’Brien) On a hot Sacramento eveningyou invited us to your backyardfor martinis and conversation— something that even those of uswho don’t drink did not want to miss—and thank goodness we didn’t, for what a delight to sit with … Continue reading →

It’s easier than ever before,what with our mini communicatorsin our pockets, to fire off an electronic love note or,for the young ones, as a last resort,to make a phone call, which, now that I have reachedold fart-dom myself, I wish … Continue reading →

Even the rising temperatureof this day that’s predicted toovertop the century mark again when we so much wish itwouldn’t. It might not, after all.We can’t perfectly predict the thorniness of what’s coming.But we can pause, open the doorand walk into … Continue reading →

halfway between heaven and earth,for that is the space you occupyin this mystery of human life, allowing the mind to rest, justfor a moment, in stillness,in openness. You and I and all beingseverywhere want the samethings: to be happy, to … Continue reading →

I have so little Frenchin my vocabulary—a soupçon, one might say— which has nothing to dowith soup—a word wearingsuch a graceful accent mark, the cedilla that softens that“c” almost into an “s.” Butwhen that little bit of a word alights … Continue reading →

The kettle does not agonize overhow long water takes to reachthe just-right temperature for tea. It heats at its own steady pace,doesn’t mind waiting, relishesthe quiet unfolding. All things ripen as they will; everythingtakes the time it needs. Life tucksinto … Continue reading →