I was with an attractive woman who reminded me of an old girlfriend, who dropped me off at a movie theatre. Got ticket and was first in, alone, then decided I needed to use urinal, went to it and was a line, so went outside to take leak in a discreet spot, and upon finishing, in tree near me a ruckus erupted between what seemed to be a bobcat and an owl. Somehow their fight became attached on backside of my upper right arm. I felt talons and claws digging in as they fought, thinking—“OK, this is part of animal existence and they’re going to fight to the death, and they can use my arm to do it until it’s over," even though painful and made me grimace. Owl was winning and bobcat started to die. I thought, OK, get it over with owl so I can go watch the movie. Then there was kind of a mental communication between me and owl, but couldn’t understand what it was. Then woke up.
Monday, November 2, 2026
Thursday, October 29, 2026
Saturday, October 17, 2026
poem
(untitled)
I remember it well,
a weekend late noon on the peninsula
between Pacific and the marina—
not more than ten years old
and told to go find something to do,
after inquiring sleepwalking adults.
On the bottom step I sat next to the hibiscus
in full bloom, red iridescent from sunlight low,
primary yellow pollen fierce as can be;
watching it jounce in the bluster
of afternoon ocean breeze,
where I wanted to be in control—
and then another moment years hence,
as a twenty-something surfer
at a beach party the same time of day—
stark light, waving flowers, wanting to be in control.
But today, even further years hence
those moments
made themselves known and became me:
walking a shore at the same time
and in the same light, but searching the low tide
for nicely rounded beach glass:
alone, but in control.
Thursday, October 15, 2026
Saturday, October 10, 2026
script
"My default is if it's the interest of the people, sign me up. Digging ditches, whatever it is, sign me up."
