Writer in San Francisco, CA
The sea slides along the beach,
pushing and pulling. The white froth
gathers, settling on the sand littered
with broken shells, kelp, and the cracked
half-eaten carcasses of crabs. The deep note of
the fog horn covers the rhythmic rushing of the waves.
A seagull cries. The horizon stretches on.
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On August 29th, I participated in the 2021 Utah Arts Festival as a Literary Artist. I read about twenty minutes of poetry, a blend of works in progress, poems written in workshops, and a few pieces that I dredged up from documents I’d long forgotten.
I attempt to crack jokes during my poetry readings to lighten the mood. That’s why you’ll notice these photos of me are a little silly. I usually find that sometimes people can get quickly bored at poetry events, especially if they’re hearing one poet after another reading pretty heavy stuff. This has led me to attempt to “wake up” my audience. I’m still working on how to perfect this process.
The UAF was a packed event on a hot summer’s day in Salt Lake City. The air was hazy from the wildfire smoke trapped in the valley by the mountains, leaving a slight aftertaste in the mouth and an underlying scent everywhere. Besides the smoke, the ongoing Pandemic appeared to be an afterthought for most people in SLC. I saw very few people downtown and at the UAF wearing masks or social distancing. Masks have been recommended for people outdoors because the air quality is so poor.
I want to say thank you to UAF, those in charge of the Literary performances, and everyone that attended my reading. I had a wonderful time sharing a selection of my poems and engaging with my audience.
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alien tendrils sprout in banana yellow,
a crisscross of purple limbs, a centerpiece atop
your body. what are you? a U.F.O. among the leaves?
a kaleidoscopic array of spikes and colors starburst
from dark hair carefully manicured in a circular
formation. what a strange thing you are.
squash yellows, purples, dark browns, and soft shade of blues.
the design is divine mathematics pleasing to the eye, but
you are a weird flower.
I found this flower on a walk in a residential neighborhood near Coit Tower. I’d love to know what it is, if you know please leave a comment below.
Let the light distill words in this
empty room. Only the two of us here
together as the sun fades into night, no
longer able to see each other, just
words traveling across the darkness.
For the past week, I’ve been paying attention to doors and archways on my daily walks. “Doorway” is a short poem that explores them.
a knob can turn, a key into
a lock, a doorway holding
a moveable wall.
a passageway into
a new realm, a quiet space.
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