Shaken

  Seizure: being grabbed and tossed to the ground.  In an instant, I became a bucking horse, forgiven everything except this moment. In exchange for a mouthful of blackened bacon sweating grease, here is a chaser of carpet and the hail of a table's debris.  It is unusual, to say the least, to awaken face down on a  carpet, …

The Empty Room

On the way to the hospital, I walk past Mosswood Park and was compelled to visit the amphitheater. Speckled key lights of sun were spilled randomly along the ground. When was the last time I was here: the late 90's men's group meeting? I was quite fond of those Sundays when a bunch of male …

The Last Haul

my grandfather was my first employer. he worked as a landscaper and yard man for home owners along the Oakland Hills Piedmont, Berkeley. I was with him every summer between late grade school and Jr high. his drove a muscular Ford truck carpeted with spilled malts and holes candy wrappers, Styrofoam bowls for Big Macs. …

What About Bob?

Who was it said Poems are never finished, they're just abandoned?  I begin writing a poem after I assume some understanding about or appreciation over what I've just seen, experienced or remembered.  Sometimes the poem comes out in one chunk and I let it rest for a while, then go back and tidy it up:  Remove, add, clarify.  Sometimes …