From here you can see the snowy mountains,
Like words written on the blue walls of the sky.
That's your east,
And your west?
The blue fades to a vague gray in the direction
Of the dark wilds of the Pacific.
This is California's vegetable garden,
The Central Valley, long and wide.
I inhabit this place. Like a bat in a cave.
Like an owl in an elm. This place is my own.
I fill this land like a ghost fills a haunted house,
Like coffee fills a cup.
Starting out from here
Any direction is the right direction,
And turning about from any direction
Takes me back home.
Morning light begins, pale Through the window. Just a whisper in the darkness At first, then, later, a blue sky Cloaked in golden su...
The Davis Arts Center Poetry Series present two fine poets, Barbara West and Mary Zeppa , on Sunday, August 19th, at 2pm. This is a free ...
She was quiet for a long time, it seemed like years, And I was patient, I knew I could wait her out. Finally she said, "Every tre...