Little Epiphanies

BUENOS AIRES, Argentina – I want a bold love, the kind that flows like a steep mountain river, roaring over the rock bed, pushing fallen branches and stones out of its way. I want a love that overflows and missteps and clamors back, a little wiser for its mistakes. I...

SAN FRANCISCO, CA – At the back of a closet, in a box that I was sure had been lost, I found a treasure trove of old diaries. As I write in my journal most every day, come rain or shine, depression or ecstasy, I have plenty of old journals lying around. But these were...

SAN FRANCISCO, CA – At the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, I met some poets for hire. The three of them sat in a prim line in front of their old typewriters, waiting for those in need of a poem. The came from all over. From Duluth, Minnesota; from Austin, Texas;...

I remember the times it happened. I remember a chaise longue by a pool at a roadside motel where several hundred prized teenagers were gathered one weekend. Alone, recently arrived at the conference, I sat in the smog-tinged roadside sun and read a copy of The New...

MT. SHASTA, CA – I had spent several days prowling around the mountain but I had absolutely no urge to go up it. I had been on it once before many years ago and I knew it couldn’t be conquered, that I didn’t even want to. I no longer had the hubris. The mountain had...

The tour ends. The rain begins to fall. There is a velvety sadness hanging between the trees. I trust the sadness because sadness is love. We leave behind old friends whom we see at most once a year. We leave behind a raw existence where life...

Every piece of writing worth reading requires inspiration. Without it, the whole event falls flat like open champagne bottles the day after a blow-out party. You might shake them up a bit and get some fizz, but the flavor is rancid and no one will believe you. When...

I said goodbye to a friend the other day. It was both parting and reencounter. Distracted over the past year, we had not seen each other much and now he was going and there were too many things we hadn’t done. My thoughts went to all those...

We are born in the sacred flames, charred and purified, condemned and resurrected. In the moment of our birth, we are given the gift of our death, something to fear, something to cherish. All love-making in between is burdened and exalted by...

MONTAUBAN-SUR-L’OUVÈZE, France – Today, I am surrounded by beauty but at a loss for words. It happens to me sometimes. There are moments when the words refuse to come. Perhaps they are waiting for something. In their place I send you some photos that say...