3 a.m. Encounter with the Moon

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 I Dreamed the Pandemic Was Purged

Despite the Mess of Us All

Today it isn't just the fresh marsh grass that inspires me, each blade bent and turned to glass polished by a quiet rain, a gull that perches every morning on the fence at the lagoon cocky with his trash talk and with dawn shining off his breast, the clouds that race to stay ahead of… Continue reading Despite the Mess of Us All

Dreams in the Time of COVID-19

My first three teeth fell out last night at Sarah's fortieth birthday party and I mistook them for pebbles or seashells in my jaw and shored them underneath my tongue. I spit them out in two pink flowered paper towels that danced in the powder room and— the mirror handed me two more— returned for… Continue reading Dreams in the Time of COVID-19

Hand, or Specimen?

Grandma, I just love your veins, touching one protruding on my left hand, watching it sully from side to side. Grandma, your hands are like specimens, my own interpretation. Veins reminiscent of invertebrates in the Natural History Museum— earthworms, centipedes, those that squirm and seek shelter. If a museum object: Left hand, mature female homo sapiens, Caucasus, sepia-colored… Continue reading Hand, or Specimen?

Before I Was Real at the DMV

Was I ever real enough to see a hummingbird hover outside my room certain that it was my mother again enough of a presence for baby lizards to leap from the sidewalk like exclamations startled by the shadow of me to gape at a fallen sycamore leaf big as Goliath’s Philistine hand with all five fingers curled in a… Continue reading Before I Was Real at the DMV

Tolerance as Taught by the Redwoods

This ring of redwoods is patient beyond any patience I ever waited for. Patient in peaceful protest against the meanness of time, and with the ground that cringes underneath their roots, the rumble and creak of a weary world. Patient with the roar of civilization they swallow to save us from ourselves, and once absorbed… Continue reading Tolerance as Taught by the Redwoods