Inside an Old Wooden Box

Words carved on an antique box: J.A. Egen, Prisoner of War, Burt's Island, Bermuda, November 11, 1901 What proof do we need of existence? Sometimes only a carved letter box inlaid with lilies, the corners coupled in half-blind dovetails. A box chiseled by a prisoner of war, a South African Dutchman who fought the British… Continue reading Inside an Old Wooden Box

At the Intersection with Wildness

we found a string of jewels never meant to be revealed on a Monday morning— not here, not on the lawn beneath a king palm tree on a city street— a luminous necklace of intestines dangling from the spine of an animal locked in fetal position, fur trailing like orange hair yanked out of a… Continue reading At the Intersection with Wildness

When the Drum Told the Story

Sixty years— I still hear those black and white beats and feel the throb of an army snare drum— three measures rolled with an even pulse, the fourth one choked and abruptly stopped. They spoke of a sixties news telecast, the late autumn hours, a nation that wept, the caisson that lumbered with iron regret, a president’s… Continue reading When the Drum Told the Story

Gift of a Sparrow’s Nest

It’s like a present found under the tree when everyone's sound asleep on Christmas Eve, and the thrill of trespassing.   The rustic wrapping is full of hope, a family’s intimate history written in twisted straw and cursive grass and sometimes fine sepia print.   There’s the urgency of architecture: this twig here, then this… Continue reading Gift of a Sparrow’s Nest

Pandemic V: Once an Empire

Once we made gold that sweetened the drink of Egyptian kings, elixir of gods. Once our god was an ebony gold that drove our machines and drove countries to war. Once we beat our wings at the sun, our castle a colossus that hummed. Once we made wings and flew past the sky to a… Continue reading Pandemic V: Once an Empire

Certain Houses Get Along Without Us

I saw the gracious windows of our house like two eyes that manifest its soul, the sycamores we planted are godparents, the homestead looking happy on the whole.   Certain houses get along without us when others adopt them for their home. The sound of children’s slippers in the hallway— shouldn’t that be our memory… Continue reading Certain Houses Get Along Without Us

Pandemic IV: Elegy for the High Five

Spring, 2020 That sudden in-air collision of palms breaking the rule, Keep your hands to yourself— it felt Friday night, it felt Mardi Gras, a home run bottom of ninth opening day. Always brazen, sometimes a rebel the way it laughed with its head thrown back, a teenager with a mischievous smile. It sometimes said… Continue reading Pandemic IV: Elegy for the High Five

Pandemic III: I Dreamed the Pandemic Was Purged

when a storm surged for days off the Mexican Coast and finally breached California shores Old Testament style and flushed our streets with epic amounts of spring clean rain. In the morning epidemiologists reported the virus was last seen in filmy rivers jumping the curbs in San Diego. Oceanographers are saying this event makes history… Continue reading Pandemic III: I Dreamed the Pandemic Was Purged