Red Road
The road to Napa is reddened by racoon roadkill.
A herd of cows are grazing in the green hills.
Rows of grapes are growing in every direction –
The Bay
The rain drenched the dark San Francisco streets, covering the city with a quiet, indifferent shroud.
Heavy Hearts
In the mid-nineteenth century, in the mountains
surrounding Yosemite, a detachment of US Army
forces encircled a Native American tribe before
the crack of dawn.
By the Sea Shore
She moves too slow and flowers too fast –
the redwoods stand high overhead;
unconcerned with the trail of ants below
marching into the great unknown.
Shallow Roots
It was one of those gray autumn afternoons when the sky’s a flat stretch of concrete and the world looks like it forgot how to feel.
Quarantine
I feel like a bacteria trapped in a foreign body – searching for similar strains and a propitious space to divide and multiply.
Cadaver Canes: I
Exiting Embarcadero station in December
and turning toward Spear Street, I see a man
standing, slumped over like a candy cane—