Category Archives: Uncategorized

(for the good folks at Vic’s Ice Cream in Sacramento) The thing is that it’s real turkey,carved off the bird, all the wayto the carcass, like the aftersof Thanksgiving when you hack off a pieceof white meat, slap on it … Continue reading →

We asked for a mapbut, as she accepts,she gives us a compass, not directions exactly,but pointing the way tomore of what we hold in our hearts—awayfrom fear and meannessto y’all come and everyone in the pool.It’s summer, and shemakes us … Continue reading →

I wonder sometimes if I am writing the same poem over and over.If I’ve lived in the rooms of the lines so long, I’ve left crease marks on the furniture. —Maya Stein ••• Perhaps this is why I don’t invite … Continue reading →

Not that it needs/wantsto be held, butyou might. So I put one foot in frontof the other, so slowly,so slowly, circle the perimeteras the labyrinth unfoldsits gifts to you, which you may or may notpick up—though your heartmight, collecting a … Continue reading →

You watchin’ me?I think it’s watchin’ us, dude. Don’t like it. Gonna stare it down. Make it leave.It’s not leavin’. Why’s it not leavin’? Wha’cha doin’, you guys?Tryna chase this thing away. Give it the hard stare.It’s not leavin’.I know. … Continue reading →

(Richmond, BC, near VancouverInternational Airport) Clearly in the YVR flightpath,walking around the lovely pond,I cannot miss the great jetsthundering overheadon their way into the sky. Why, there goes one now,winking and gleaming againstthe soft blue and puffy white. The wedge … Continue reading →

(Victoria, BC) As I look out on a familiar streetat the grocery as Sunday shopperspick up food for the week ahead,I sit at a table for two as one. I do not mind. He has been a good sport,sipped more … Continue reading →

(I stop my quick walk when,looking down, I seewords chalked in white,fading into sidewalk) Poem byHoneyValley (then a line of words in blue chalk,mostly worn away, unreadable,and three more lines) Do you hear that?the engine of your machinewhirring hard (good … Continue reading →

(In memory of Emily Carr of Victoria, BC,and Emily Dickinson of Amherst, Mass.) Emily’s Elephant does not seem big enoughto resemble an actual elephant,but that’s what Miss Carr calledthe small rectangular wooden structurethat the artist used as a traveling studio. … Continue reading →

(for Dickie) Though I have cut your hairfor decades, now, when wevacation in Victoria, you head to Sean, the James Bay barber,for a proper cut—not just ofhair but for a good trim of the caterpillars over youreyes, as Sean calls … Continue reading →