Is it terrible
that I have to Google my
grandmother’s first name
when I send occasional postcard?

Marian, Miriam, Marion – I never
remember. But Google’s ‘Marion’
has his own Wiki page and
wrote a book, something my
grandmother only ever
aspired to.

Something I only ever
aspire to. My own Wiki page,
my name in print on shelves.

Perhaps we’re not so dissimilar.


Somewhere in Philadelphia.


Come morning, we slid
tippy kayaks into the Sound,
Poulsbo-bound for breakfast

Fearless oars separated
families of jellyfish, we mean
no harm, just passing through

And geoducks – what strange
creations, sand-fountains that
could dance to Mozart

Comfort of land, sun-drenched
streets of shops, families,
Norwegian oddities, pastries
the size of frisbees.

Poulsbo, WA

Poulsbo, WA

Swimming Wishes

On mornings crisp with new
Grass glazed with frozen dew
Atop the concrete hill,
Buildings bricked and still

Warm chlorine trips my thoughts
Stopping with sharp recognition
I daydream of white swim caps,
Slow diving with dolphin-precision


Lots of rain, somewhere in Minneapolis.


Together, we forgive the rind
with a sharpened knife

You split with force
the egg-shaped squash

Whose entrails I spoon
onto the butcher’s block

Spreading like an orange
net, loaded with teardrop seeds

The belly of our oven is
amber-glowing, ready

First summer in a seaport city

Posing as a coastal surprise
Blooms in abundance in summertime
Sweet pink roses climb on green branches
Tender pale buds that yearn for vases

And the unsuspecting other-surprise
Left by a canine, who just had to go
Where I would plant my sandal
When reaching for a few blooms of my own


Wild Roses in Kirkland, Seattle