Author Archives: janishaag

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 →

(for Henry Alan Gielfrom Great Aunt Jan) So what do you thinkof this world you’velanded in, tiny mammal? These people fromwhom you came caringand carrying you, propping you up,their big, goofy facesgrinning at you. You shining the lightof your sweet … Continue reading →

I know you’re out there somewhereSomewhere, somewhereI know you’re out there somewhereSomewhere you can hear my voice I know I’ll find you somehowSomehow, somehowI know I’ll find you somehowAnd somehow I’ll return again to you —Justin Hayward (of the Moody … Continue reading →

adjective: Having the same or coincident boundaries;meeting at the ends; within the same boundaries. ••• You created my boundaries before youwere aware of my presence deepin your womb— just a wee egglet bumped intoby Dad’s wiggly sperm and… boom!Embryonic me, … Continue reading →

Are you addicted to your phone? In the doctor’s office waiting rooma masked man leans over and says to his wife, Some people just have to be on their phones all the time,as I begin writing a poem on mine. … Continue reading →

On my way to Mom’s, I drive into Beals Pointto admire the spectacularly full lake,the water rarely so high that seeingthe vastness of blue submerginggranite outcroppings winked with micafeels almost miraculous. The flotilla of Canada geese looks happy,a giant flock … Continue reading →

Someone asked,Do you think he might’ve lived longerif you hadn’t left him? I didn’t say,That’s the million-dollar question,isn’t it? I didn’t say,Hmmm… I never thought of that,not once in the 23 years since he diedalone in the house he rentedin … Continue reading →