What It’s Like

It’s like being in Miss Wheeler’s class but wanting to play with the kids in Miss King’s class. The thing is, they go to recess at 10:30 with the fifth graders, while your class goes at 11 with the kindergarteners.

The Hand That Shook The Hand

I didn’t go to my grandfather’s funeral. I had excuses at the time — I was living 500 miles away, no money for plane fare, other obligations, and so forth — but mostly I suspected that funerals were some kind of superstitious pagan ritual.

The Anxious Wrestler

A Zen Story Of Psychotherapy

Nothing remained in the temple — except the mighty ocean rising and falling, and surging onward in its cycles. This was the sole reality. The temple itself disappeared. There was only the ocean, and the wrestler himself was the ocean.

Miracle At Canyon De Chelly

When I came to understand that there are mythic patterns in all of our lives, I knew that all of us, often unbeknownst to ourselves, are engaged in a drama of soul which we were told was reserved for gods, heroes, and saints.

Demon Eye

I needed to see the stallion’s body once I knew that he was dead. Nate had found him down by the creek while I was away.

little pictures

as a small child, i did not know how to unzip myself. my parents never talked about it. when i was fourteen my father “accidentally” left out a book on his desk called “what to tell your child about unzipping.”

Selected Poems

Early Darkness