the toolshed


Come in and shut the door. Don’t step on the rake or send the circular saw flying This is where I store next to the seed and motor oil all my failures the projects begun but never completed the tools Read more ›

To a Friend


If I were a leaf-cutter ant, I’d gnaw at your illness and with my helpers carry it piece by piece across the road.   If I were a giant whale shark I’d let you cling like a remora to my Read more ›

The View from the Needle


If prayers could animatethe matchstick armsthat dangle by your side,I’d compose a dozen dailyand post them on the old-growthcedars in Olympiawhich shoot straight up to Heaven.It’s been three years since you feltthe numbness in your handsand your illness is stilla Read more ›



you were a child of the East not yet nineteen hunched over your sitar playing ragas for me in your bedroom your feet tucked under the green sari you always wore your long braid tossed back over your shoulder   Read more ›