In the summer, when we camp
along the coast,
the girls find good and evil
in the way over the rocks.
Grogon’s Lagoon leads to the cave
of the Evil Witch, dripping and dark.
There, she raises a poisonous poppy,
which only looks like miner’s lettuce.
The Good Witch’s grotto is open and light,
and the girls say she has sea anemones
from the Mermaid’s [...]
Pioneer Square, so sunny it feels good.
Next to me, waiting for the walk light,
a trim woman smiles hello.
Encouraged, I return the smile.
Crossing First Avenue, she’s a fine sight.
I follow, ready for
casual, tasteful ogling.
She moves quickly.
My pace increases.
I scamper to keep up.
She skips up the steep terminal steps.
I am breathless,
more aware of falling behind
than of her [...]
Nothing can restrain the light.
Spring billows along the shore,
the roar of the sap
races in my ears.
Dark clouds to the north
and in my chest.
Wherever I look,
sadness and doubt.
Numbing tiredness.
The thrumming of ferry pistons
promises my exhaustion
a lovely short nap.
Misty morning bike ride,
spray on my pant leg.
No bother,
it will dry
and brush off.
Gray sky, water, air,
dull green wash along [...]
U.S. Plans Lightning Strikes;
Terrorism Alert Raised to ‘High.’
Our weekly
compassionate listening circle
takes in this small room,
where I lie next
to a young German man,
holding his hand.
He sobs and chatters
through Holocaust guilt,
his father’s silence,
and the sense that his people
are flawed, cracked.
He believes that evil
may emerge at any time,
sucking him into
a violent darkness.
A son of the American South,
I listen.
The camera angle clarifies.
The Gaza landscape is open.
There are only these things:
a young woman wearing
a bright orange jacket,
her bullhorn,
the protected Israeli soldier-operator
of the huge US-supplied bulldozer,
And fear.
Down with the demonstrator!
Down with the house!
Down with life!
Down.
Our log home is small and simple-
We host no elegant affairs.
Some summer mornings my daughter and I
pick huckleberries for pancakes.
A sniff of the cedar air
braces me for my job in the city,
and during the ferry crossing I read a book
from the stack in the bedroom.
Recently I heard of an old fellow,
a lawyer, who worked until he was
almost 100 years old.
Then he had an accident, a fall.
He died during his convalescence.
They say the cause of death
was unspecific; that most likely
he died of a broken
routine.
There is no other life.
(With apologies to Gary Snyder.)
