Two distant planets

A chimney of cozy air

An open coin purse

Oxen at the yoke

A perch for cuddly lovebirds

An old winged corkscrew

A knotted tree trunk

A pair of well-oiled hinges

Laughter bouncing off living room walls,

Faces enter then exit stage left and right,

Students rushing from one scene to the next.

A house alive with the sound of young musings,

Filled with bliss and good tidings.

Within just 2 miles of my Sunset neighborhood home, I can explore the eerie and often fog-ridden greenery of Mount Sutro, stop and smell the roses of Golden Gate Park, ride the now iconic SkyStar Wheel, curl sand between my toes at Ocean Beach, ca

One September, we woke up to find that something was wrong with the light. We had become more and more trapped in our houses by the smoke from wildfires raging out of control across California, on top of the ongoing battle against COVID.

I glanced                      across                    the road

at my reflection.       the way she              looked hazy,

i doubted she               was real.                     swathed in mist, and

This means war, blues versus red.

No guns, less germs,

But plenty of steel.

There will be blood, I fear.

Drip, drip, drip,

Sweat rolling from my chinny chin chin.

Knives out then in,

Before twenty five I have

Seen towers fall and dictators rise

As if history is a lever that seeks

equilibrium. I trust that the balance

It requires is on my side 

But even then I do not know which