Wrapping up final edits to my wine country caper, The Green Tara. Expected release date is December 1. Paperbacks will be available through my website and online. Somewhere in Sonoma, a set of false teeth hides a clue to the unsolved mystery of The Green Tara, a famous emerald necklace that once belonged to a … More The Green Tara Is Here!
Shortly after the Sonoma County wildfires were extinguished, I was asked to write a poem for the local newspaper. Everyone seemed to have a story about evacuating their pets, especially their cats. Firecats Tell me again about your cat – the one you evacuated during the wildfires how you searched for her under beds, … More Firecats
Come away to Carcass Island In the sundering, Southern Seas Where black night heron shadows roost In scorched wood cypress trees Come away to Carcass Island Where the tussock grasses die Among the dog roses and fuchsias Under high cerulean skies Come away to Carcass Island Where the ghosts hum funeral hymns And the sailors … More Carcass Island
A muddy touché! Ye villains of Hong Kong and Dubai, fork-tongued evangelists of foreign currency! We applaud the handing over of our stolen goods – May we offer you a free-of-charge gondola ride over the holy land a bird’s-eye view of your assets your wives and daughters, your mothers your pimps, your priests and pederasts your arms traders … More Open Letter to Mammon
They’d sought no probable explanation no disambiguation of class, (order, family, genus) for the idiot in the courtyard filing his nails with flint, painting the stone walls with his own excrement. A few had teased her for a nose, an eye, a grimace perceived in the child. But for a red-faced cousin – rapacious youth … More Half Savage and Free
I. Today, on Camus’ 100th Birthday 230 million birds in the cloud tweeting across the continents signaling the coming of spring with Arab spring still blooming in a desert blackout above the rising tide of revolution, the emptying of holy lands. Yet, the only question remaining is still the question of suicide. II. Back home … More For #Camus on His 100th Birthday
His skin, his blood was failing One had the same feeling as before: the grim knowledge, two lives unknown rivers flowing, two hearts; pieces, files, official papers erupting from distant cabinets rained down, aflame in a grim hour… Heavy fog on the Black Sea, Gas lights out in Moscow. The other choice was to begin … More Pravda – a Found Poem