Category: Life in America

Everything you can possibly imagine

Fantasy Star Trail by Nicolas Raymond New Years Resolution

There’s a reason why we every year we do that “resolution” thing at the new year. It has to do with hope. The turn of the new year is a false sense of new beginning. But it’s one we love to embrace. It’s proof of the enduring human spirit and our attachment to hope. Every…

How to Love a Day Like Today

Love Light Love Letter Las Vegas Shooting

In the face of the senseless Las Vegas shooting, how do we get through a day like today? I felt frozen most of the day, the horror buttressed by the president’s hypocritical and milquetoast response. How do I get through a day in which the acid undercurrent of anger and instability that has been pouring…

Let Me Be a Jellyfish

Let me be a Jellyfish

Let me be a jellyfish Brainless and glowing My beauty innate– Unquestionable, even, Since I’ve no amygdala for Shouting orders, no hippocampus Busily collecting Potential threats. Let me be a jellyfish, One of a tribe of Transluscent pancakes Mindlessly ganged around Jews cutting the Red Sea waves or Rubber-tubed tourists — Either way.

A Good Look

Neon Flower Petals

Because spring masquerades with us Because friends continue to report I can’t breathe Because although my heart drags Daffodils design to have their way. Because spring upholds its wretched promise to us Because friends scrabble to apologize If I’d only known Because passing sorrow remembers my shape Regardless of my shrinking wardrobe. Fill up the holes, the advice calls. Plug up all the places the…

Mizzle, Again, Without You

I experienced mizzle, again, tonight. This time, without you. Our first mizzle draped the English town of Dover at night. Friends’ laughs echoed in our wake. A mizzle clouded all the air space, As we strolled under repeating Streetlights from B&B to seafood joint. We arrived damp, the standard condition of Englishness. Our second mizzle–…

All the Original Everything

Twins and Poetry All the Original Everything

All the original everything has Rolled out the factory. The Whatsits and Whosees along with Their two point oh children Now retired to a retail museum. Wait awhile: won’t be long ’til The oily new marketing rep Sells the idea: it’s time to reinvent you. Latin is dead. Long live the King Of Romance, the…

Love is a Fingerprint

Marcus Smoot Combat Boots Love is a fingerprint

Love is a fingerprint Shared between Exactly two people– Nothing repeats. No coda, no lookalike No twin affair possible– Replicated or paraphrased– Later in life. My heart knows the Vinegar taste of you. I distinguish your laugh Among the rubble– One I discern only between Lines and across Miles and beyond uncounted graves. I am…

Leonard Nimoy’s Tree

Green Powered Car

Leonard Nimoy’s rumored penthouse in Vancouver Was easy to spot– a pin oak tree growing Atop the 19th floor at English Bay. Think about the inches nearest To you. What’s in your line of Vision? Mine: Target bags of plastic eggs A rubbery Fitbit, Telling me to move. Wood. The mantle carved, The Pictures framed, the copies…

You see a light & then another

Tragically Hip in Concert 2015

You started not to like me. At first you thought: It’s not him. It’s me. It’s the Chemo, the kids, the stress, my weight. Drugs ended. Hair grew back. Boobs rebuilt. Life leveled as Kids reached an easy age And yet you Couldn’t shake feeling that I’d Turned on you. One time I toured then Didn’t come home.…

10 Things I Love About You

Susan's Birdhouse

Grey hair in streaks, falling straight down. Friendship, translucent and strong as fishing line Books, stacks of texts, leaning. Paper birds, emerging from the wet, hempy mash Disagreement, and dissent. Chickens in the back 40. Raised boxes and their bees. Voice, a cool shaded pond. Bob. Tomorrow, empty canvas. — for Susan, Day 12, Poetry Month

An Ode to Frida, on a Monday


Across the Gulf from La Casa Azul, this Monday Late morning I am thinking of you, Frida. My sister’s just called and We Facetimed, her lying flat on her Back on her bed, phone in midair Me slurping lukewarm coffee in my Second cousin-in-law’s second home and the chatter Echoes off textured walls until we…

My Kind of America

Got to hit the road and try to find My kind of America. It’s out there Somewhere: not too crowded, A farmer’s market weekly At the time of day convenient for Both the workers and the farmers. People reading books. Bike lanes and Sidewalks and garden boxes Where brown and white Mix happily as a…