Author Archives: janishaag

Just as you never tell your childrenwhich of them is your favorite(they all are, right?), you don’t reveal to the people sittingaround the table, writing theirart out, that they’re your dream team,the ones you want around the tablein heaven, if … Continue reading →

I take the back way home afteran afternoon with friends in the townthat embraced me four decades ago,one that I’ve never released either. It’s high summer fruit season, and,I suspect, that if I head north onPleasants Valley Road toward Winters,though … Continue reading →

I hear that the Pedrick Road fruit standhas cherries for a dollar a pound, and instantly, I see myself in the carheading down there, though I have perfectly good cherriesin a bowl within reach. But not for long. It’s June,cherry … Continue reading →

about my favorite kind of light,blueblue end-of-day sky, wisp of cloudpaintbrushed in icing slightly starboardof tree tip, I admire the sun on its longest daystarbursting into a halo so perfectit looks airbrushed— which, whisked by wind,it is. Komorebi, the Japanesecall … Continue reading →

You, who have been split openby love or loss or both,somehow still stand,though you have no ideawhy. You wonder if this gash,reopened far too many times,can possibly heal—perhaps with divine sutures—so that one day you’ll barelyperceive the trace of a … Continue reading →

(for Nikki and Annie, rememberingtheir Gotcha Day, June 20, 2016) ••• I fall into a bit of Chinaat the dumpling place in myAmerican city, across the streetfrom what used to be the newspaperwhere my fella worked 40 yearsand I spent … Continue reading →

On a summer afternoonwe take a break from sorting,Kelsey on the deck with eightplastic bottles of vintage bubblesthat have lived in my garagefor decades. “Are they still any good?” I ask.Kelsey, much closer to herbubble-blowing youth than I,shrugs, then grins … Continue reading →

So these daily attemptsat poems are reallyessays? Or, wait—”essay” as verb,to attempt, to putto the test. To examine. Sure,doesn’t every poemdo a bit of belly button gazing? A weighingof considerations?But that means more time meanderingthrough my mind,when what would serve … Continue reading →

The morning I pull up at the springs,bring forth the empty gallons ripefor summer filling, the only people present are womenbearing all sizes of containers froma quick glug to a water cooler’s worth of Bitney Springs’ best.Of course, it’s the … Continue reading →

is anybody’s guess,my father used to say— that, and Don’t countyour chickens before they’re hatched. And,he’d tease my sister and me, Eat your vegetables—they’ll put hair on your chest. As littlegirls, we’d protest, Daddy! We don’t wanthair on our chests!” … Continue reading →