There can’t possibly be anything in the world more complicated than a sourdough starter. I feed Edgar every 24 hours, sometimes more if he moans and belches a watery black liquid. “Hooch” this is called, and apparently I am to stir it back in and just keep feeding. But Edgar doesn’t like the sun & doesn’t like the pantry & doesn’t like cool water and it must be … Read More Edgar
With fistfuls of ocean, I scrubthe soles of my feet— exhausting flakes for the fish food watching the waves lose pieces in a fist fight with the breeze. I got a whole lotta sand to figure things out. The sun will wait for me patiently kissing umbrella cloudstil my blue towel be set near that low wall. Not for the first time do I wonder how long this will last. Harnessing light from … Read More Kaimana
The waves on south shore Oahu are limp during the winter months. Adrenalized surfing doesn’t take place until April (really mid-May), when surprise swells from the Tasman Sea rip into the bays of Waikiki and Ala Moana. Sudden waves barrel on top of longboards, chipping them against the coral heads exposed during low tide. And such a surprise swell last April!
Three days before, the slip-on NR bicycle lamps on our handlebars were swiped. A neighbor reported seeing a black SUV pull up to the front of the apartment building and a man run to the back, trigger the motion sensor lights, and run back to the SUV. My landlady suggested other places we could secure our bikes, and we considered them.
Available in paperback and e-book, Articulated Soul is a collection of 50 poems in five categories (Kansas, Austria, Indonesia, New Zealand, and Hawaii). These poems catalogue the many fragrant emotions of living abroad on one’s own, the sites and smells, the insecurities. Supplementing the angst are 25 original collages, expanding the metaphor of influence and creativity. Grateful acknowledgment is made to the editors and … Read More Announcement!
Did you ever think you could live this long? That the tongue which rattles the potato-burn ridges of gum would grace the scoop of inner teeth to say love? That love could hold your hand for twice as long as you let it & still remain to brush teeth together in the cool evenings —
Sometimes you have to unlock the chest and hurl your throbbing heart into the afternoon air so stuffy and hateful & perfectly taunting fighting back against the restlessness in those tippy toes to stand up tall against the counter and count the screams from the windows. February falls not far from the wandering tree these winding fingers this sloping house the floor on … Read More Working From Home
I know about the dough in the oven. Hot and wild tempered left a little too long on its own, I know the shoots and bangs and whirls the catastrophize the inner workings of my Bosch broiler. With tiny white rings on the brown crusted boule I know the tilt of the rise, the slashes I placed the claws in claws out. … Read More Still Life with Figs
Bird says, “set the coffee here, please and oranges if you have them.” Between green wings, that of a bamboo shoot so light green it’s almost wilting, Bird grasps the white ceramic handle and lifts the mug to his beak. From his high perch