1989: Image and Reality

it’s 1989 i’ve become accustomed to the song of cicadas in the patio the nightly drop of avocados morning’s race to get my share before pirate rats taste them all; accustomed to flipping fruit to find toothmarks in the hide and never a glimpse of fur or tail.   i’ve grown used to the softness…

1988: Para Empezar

it was 1988 the morning after a thunderstorm that washed part of the mountainside down i caught my first sight of Ajijic. my plane arrived late, and the first i knew of Mexico was rich tropical air, and then, the white-painted waists of roadside trees in the heavy, sub-tropical night. i woke in a room…

Day 26: Blessing Song

when i first came to the city, my fear rode on my back cities don’t love indians.  but i didn’t know better than to walk everywhere, because i could. and i began to admit there was life all around me, from the first crack of dandelion leaves up in march, through the stubborn winter song…

Wood Grain Magics

Spent part of the morning staining a fence, observing the swift and easy rise of minutiae by which Life lets us know how relentless it can be. How long, i wondered, would it take for the small legions to take down this fence? A little longer, now, where the stain drags time down to a…