How I Met William T. Wiley

How I Met William T. Wiley

It was in the Old de Young the Grand Girl gone for fifteen years now so figure twenty we were mounting an exhibition of Wiley’s work full of dunce and wizard caps, violin ‘f’ holes, pieces of maps, fastidious lines, luminous washes not to mention a wrought iron cart...
Whistling in the Dark

Whistling in the Dark

Fossils Arranged Numbered Measured Dead Yet sometimes of a late night we like to dance around the store room and watch ourselves gavotte. We whisper stories one to another of our fleshly selves before the landslides of life overwhelmed us and of how petrified we were...
Prodigal Father

Prodigal Father

Chased the circus across Idaho Rousting about got old pretty quick Dad spent the night in A Washington jail Begged the jailer A warm place to sleep
Flea Market

Flea Market

  He prowls the drive-in theater In daylight through a tinny confusion Of accordions from the land to the south Among stalks of sugarcane Boxes of eight-track tapes Purses T-shirts Toys and dishes The detritus of other folks’ Much too much lives He rescues...