Category Archives: Poetry

The children look too much like him for me to ever doubt their shared paternity (as if I could! I paid attention then to all my copulations with the men). But here’s a rub I didn’t contemplate when I at … Continue reading →

I should be in my study as I start a poem about a bookcase dear to me. But while I write I travel south on BART, and arrow west to the vicinity of office furniture: pale gray, matte black, veneers … Continue reading →

Perhaps I’ll integrate my heart and head. Shall I attempt consolidation, just the way my fingers interweave at rest, or like I used to braid my daughter’s hair? Or this: incorporate my soul instead – encourage it to excavate my … Continue reading →

I don’t admire man enough to make my god a man. I really don’t like people very much. I try to reason honestly, as clearly as I can, but can’t imagine deity with touch or ears or nose, or vocal … Continue reading →

I see a line of 14 folks whose flight has been delayed, and every one of them appears resigned and patient: quite all right with change in plans. Each has a stratagem I can’t perceive. It’s San Francisco fog again … Continue reading →

The willow branches comb the lazy stream like fingers trailing off a rowboat’s wale. The tendrils form a bell of shade; they screen our eyes from summer’s unrelenting flail. Upstairs clear plastic covers every seat and corrugated plastic tarps the … Continue reading →

You can’t be perfect, or you would be mine. But then again, my vision may be skewed, and what will be may be in fact more fine than anything I dream. It would be rude if I attempted argument, and … Continue reading →