Category Archives: Uncategorized

For years, men did this for me—my father, my husband, my partner. I’d blame it on my weak upper body.I can’t dig a hole for spit, especially in the clay that masquerades as soilin my back yard. And that’s true. … Continue reading →

(Interior live oak, Quercus wislizeni) Hey, big fella—yeah, you big,shaggy live oak—nice to see you craggy-barked behemoth, you.How’s your year been? Sorry I haven’t been by to chatlately. I’ve been walking other parks, taking different avenues,chatting with you elder statesmen. … Continue reading →

At the VFW hall on a damp Wednesday night,Ma sings tenor with the gals and the guys,with approximately 1,800 years of barbershopharmony in their hearts. They sing the oldies—the real oldies—for the cowboy-themed recital:“Home on the Range,” “Don’t Fence Me … Continue reading →

(Sacramento, California) We still have roses.we still have pale asters,and the neighbors’ leapingcosmos and white azaleas roses in fall yellow and orangeare blooming as if they thinkit’s April. At this latitude in lateOctober, some of us think it’s spring, never … Continue reading →

You head outside and walk pastthe ruler-straight line of the frontyard where it meets the sidewalk, and there, atop the profusion oflava rock not far from the bushof the same name, lies an errant chunk of lavender sidewalk chalk.You stop, … Continue reading →

(for Walt Wiley) Mr. Wiley used to call me now and thenfrom his desk at the local newspaper.Good reporter that he was, he knew justwhen to catch me between classes, often sitting in my office with a student journalistediting the … Continue reading →

You’re walking along a sidewalk,scuffing over divebombed leaves,more of them every day, and yourfeet brush an ordinary page, white, dirty, a piece of clear tapeaffixed to the top, and you stop,look down, to see faint writingthere, in wobbly pencil: miny … Continue reading →

(for Henry) So once upon a time, before there was Aunt Jan,there was just Jan… no, wait, there was her sister,Just, Donna, who married Just, Eric, and they wanted to have a little Just or two, and they did—first Lauren … Continue reading →

The tiniest thing can make a poem,I say, when people ask where theycome from— like the grasshopper who inadvertentlyhitched a ride on my windshieldon the drive home after a massage, stiffening my shoulders with concernfor its welfare. Should I pull … Continue reading →

which is almost as odd as saying,Lauren is a mama,because it was just a little while back that Donna birthed Lauren, who arrived earlier thanpredicted, and tinier— smaller than cousin Marrynand Robyn’s Cabbage Patch dolls—and now Lauren’s a mama (though … Continue reading →