Poetry: The Thing Is
Each time I look out the window, I see a poem passing. —Gwendolyn Brooks The thing about poetry is this: Sometimes you get an idea, and you say here’s a…
Poetry: A Teacher’s Nightmare
The other night I had a dream, strange and disturbing. I was in a class, literature maybe; the unseen teacher shared a text with us, told us to go home…
Poetry: Subtle Seasons
A scrap of paper tucked in a drawer reads “seasons are subtle on the Central Coast.” I wrote that note to myself several years ago. It was mostly true, and…
Poetry: Homeless
She was young, maybe in her twenties, a pretty face, asleep and cocooned in a blanket in the space between the concrete wall of the shopping cart corral and the…
Poetry: Los Osos Lament
Early morning, and I open my eyes tentatively, wondering. When I look out my window, will the hills be alight with sunshine? Will fog shroud the world in gray, obscuring…
Poetry: Fog at Whale Rock Reservoir
Photo by Juliane McAdam (2018) Driving back to Los Osos from Paso Robles, on California’s Central Coast, the afternoon hot and brilliant with sunshine, I decide it’s a perfect day…