My House

My House

Let me give you my address

so that if you are in the neighborhood

you can drive by,

see if they’ve repainted.

You might also see someone I used to know.

Maybe eventually

we will see each other.

Let me give you my address

so that you can find it

on a map,

so that at least you will know

where I came from,

at least someone will know

where I came from.

On the map

it’s the pale orange shape

next to the light blue

of the water

where I walked on the wet sand

dragging a stick, drawing

a line that would lead back.  




More Remarkable Finds
July 1964

July 1964

She holds a flower, listening only to the small petals. They’ve all come outside to see the purple.


Every time I see a bird, I apologize. There but for the grace of . . . well, not God, certainly.
Squirrel Resurrection

Squirrel Resurrection

Oakland squirrel on the street—RIP: its language was like Coleridge’s albatross that spoke through the neck of a Hanged Man.


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