Millennials Now Ruining Morning Walks

Of all the poems I’ve written, this one bears both my silliest and my favorite title. And it’s appropriate that it’s up today in Cascadia Rising Review’s Issue 3, because it was written in conversation with the Southern California home I’m headed back to shortly for a Christmas visit. It’s also written in “conversation” (although … More Millennials Now Ruining Morning Walks

Fear of Missing Out

Night on the porch. Real darkness. The rain tries out some rhythms then shakes its head: “Take five!” The frogs advertise in the fields for all they’re worth. I’m not doing much. Vacation. There’s a blanket, a chair, the vague dark breath of the sea. I want to be composing, too: what’s my worth? Crack … More Fear of Missing Out

On Bodies

Some days, some months — let’s be honest, probably some years — my pants don’t fit. This is supposed to matter to me, and it does. In the drowsing noon, I was sitting outside and I asked the douglas fir next door about this. As usual, ki said nothing. Well, I thought, you get rounder each year! … More On Bodies

Before Ordering a Second Margarita

Walk out between the hydrozoans blooming on the beach. Or anyway, they’ve bloomed: clear jelly fingerprints, lavished on the sands: Cnideria was here. A few strewn blue-lipped bodies, still plump with sea-shout, sunlight shriveling. On what occasion did cold Pacific order such bouquets? Wrack line implacably delivers. Bare of foot to climb the rocks and ford the … More Before Ordering a Second Margarita