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CITY LIGHTS
It was a Tuesday in October or a Wednesday in March, hard to say which, but evening. We had taken a cab from the Hyatt Embarcadero or the Fairmont, it didn’t much matter, and sat in the Chinese restaurant on the edge of Chinatown, or a pasta and seafood joint in North Beach, and you…
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PHOTO
Oddly I have a photo of my grandmother’s grave, but not one of my mothers, either of them actually, and we’ve yet to have a funeral for the one who raised me. I forgive the one who gave me life, for she gave me to one she felt could care for me well and she…
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ROAD FOOD
In Hawaii I could stare for hours at a Taro field, the bent back of a farmer, and the same a gentle fold of spine I saw from the Shinkansen, Tokyo to Osaka amid the fields of yellow shoots, later rice in some bowl, perhaps even mine, or in Antwerp as the chef patiently picked…
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ANTWERP
It is seven in the morning Antwerp arises slowing in winter the small bar along seldom used quays of Schelde is almost empty, one old man tottering on his stool swaying to breath head pressed on the counter. Young couple, she brown haired pale white skin against white sweater, he long blond woven into a…
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THIN ICE
When we were much younger we would meet by the edge of the pond each day after winter’s first taste and pry rocks from the bank with frozen fingers, one the size of a fist, others even larger. We would carefully aim and in a crystal parabola watch as they hit the frozen surface, one…
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ARF
Sitting on the fourth shelf from the top, in the second rank of bookcases in my office is a somewhat worn copy Dylan Thomas is “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog.” I can’t admit to ever having read it, or an ability to now recall if I did, but I know I’ve had…
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BOOTCAMP
The butterflies came in the night floating through the barracks window, mainly monarchs, orange and black but the occasional yellow, with more gossamer wings, and the odd white with small green patches, one to a wing. There is a corner in my footlocker that is mine, where I can hide the tattered book of poems.…
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REFLECTION
He’s mostly bald and generally something of a grouch. When he enters a room, the key is to nod in recognition but not in invitation. You know, regardless of the topic at hand, he will have something to say and it, no matter how you perfume it, will nevertheless have that air of negativity he…
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ARMAGEDDON
There are a group of them who stare at the sky knowing it is coming launched on its course at the beginning of time which has no beginning. Some say it will be soon others are less certain when but all accept without question its inevitability, and wonder what will remain in its aftermath, seas…
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RULER, PLEASE
You search without end for a way to precisely measure life in all of its aspects. You will not be dissuaded by the fact that you can no more control its span than you could control your need to breathe. You say you picked the sperm and egg, that their union you carefully orchestrated. You…
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an old writer and his words 