5/30 – Peach

I recall that, hence the bruise,

I guess I didn’t realize everything else falling entails.


4/30 – Springs Eternal,

We know from implication that Hope springs eternal and Eternal springs hope

(in context and not exactness)

And while I can’t speak for a man’s breast, or what it’s like to rest, what it’s like to be papally blessed,

I know that Hope springs eternal from the bus terminal. 


2/30 – Santa Ynez in the Good Land

So, some friars walk into a Starbucks —

“Does this have caffeine in it?” One brother asks with a smile.

“Have you seen the light of Christ?” Another asks.

“..one of us is from California, and then we have New York, Florida, New Jersey…”

“I think the practices of the Buddhist monk are beautiful.” Nods another in conversation with a water colorist.

“I believe in coffee.”

1/30 – Missed Connections


You were the surfer in shorts concerned that the water was cold and I was the woman going to watch the sunset at Campus Point. You had a nice smile and thought I went to UCSB.

I hope you caught at least one wave before bailing.

The sunset was perfect.

Usually I don’t participate in writing challenges, but I don’t know – the 2017 poetry month challenge felt good for this year. Especially as a way for me to document my new times in California.

30/30 Poetry Challenge

Several of my friends participated in a challenge where they wrote a poem a day for the duration of April. Jared and Tiffany did great! Some of their gems:

Bearded Ballads 28/30: Crosswalk

 Morning fog
to have burned off,
but here comes the sun.
Head swims
through the thickness
as I’m hailed
name called
over and again
if that’s me
backwards, along
soupy grooves.
across the street
not looking both ways
ever inward.
in the darkness of the day.
I see, if only too late
this song
isn’t about you.
No, I’m full
eating blackbird tonite.
Shouldn’t have had that
second slice
of humble pie.

30in30, Day 21: “Unexpected Irises”

Unexpected irises
out of the gray earth,
so blue they hurt,
so bright my eyes narrow;
but oh! When I spot them,
I stop.
What bird dropped them there,
in the lee of the streetlamp?
I stare, arrested by the
of lavender tongues tasting the air,
which smells of thunder,
lichen, river,
mushrooms, moss,

and Spring.