It’s Sunday morning in Oakland, about 9. As I left Derek’s apartment, he looked at my badly arranged overnight bag (and my computer bag and my day sling bag) and said, “that’s a lot of stuff”. I shrugged. I’m bigRead more…
Leaving Folsom, CA
The old town sits quietly quaint above the brick powerstation museum and the cold dark of the American River where it runs out of narrow canyons below the Folsom Lake Dam – and, surprisingly, below the part of the riverRead more…
Bounded
The breadth of one day bounded by water like in a spell. Sweet breath of anise in the almost-cool morning,dawn coming so early to wipe the spilled stars a startled buck jumping and kicking down the main road the granite bouldersRead more…