Sunday, July 20, 2014


i had a dream several months ago.

someone/thing was at the door that he didn't like. he hissed and yowled. unwelcome company.

i guess that's when i started making room for the notion that his last day would come. 

that day is here. unless he passes today, i will take him in to be euthanized tomorrow.

and then i will go away awhile. 

we have had a good goodbye phase.

zen was born 20 march 1997.

my little heartbeat.


Friday, July 18, 2014

Dream Date

she's driving (of course) and pulling over to the side, to the right, to a space her car - no car - could fit through.

she stops. she's dropping me off. i'm walking the rest of the way home.

no idea what we'd done earlier.

but, she mumbles, barely discernible, would you like to get together again?

like a second date.

what? i can barely hear her, and it is not because i'm deaf. i think that's what she said, but i'm not sure. what did you say?

she repeats, again almost swallowing the words. choking on them? at any rate, hardly loud and clear but style points get trumped by the considerable degree of difficulty.

sure, i say. 

and off i go, until we meet again, presumably.  


thank Yi. 

Monday, July 14, 2014

found fortune 9 AND more heartshaped world

sidewalk, climbing grand from 5th 

flower, just north of 7th

Saturday, July 12, 2014


this would have been the summer after either my sophomore or junior year in high school.  

my friend peter young and i rode the santa ana river bike trail from costa mesa to The Big A in anaheim, where the angels played. we would do this some sundays back then when sundays were always day games.

we'd hop on our bikes and ride the however-many miles it was, getting there early to watch batting practice. on this particular summer the yankees were in town, and whether '77 or '78, they were on their way to the world series.

so we get there, lock our bikes, find our seats well up the right-field line, almost to the pole but not quite, and i walk down with my glove. as it turns out, a left-handed pull-hitter, graig nettles, is stepping in to hit.

long story short, he hooks a two-iron coming right all us kids gathered in the right-field corner, and it's pretty obvious there's going to be a chance for a catch. (or one in the face if someone deflects it in such a manner.)

so i stick out my glove through  and among the others and damn if that sizzler doesn't find it and stick. for a moment. before  some other kid knocks it out - greedy pig - and after a moment of precious possession that ball with the american league stamp on it is rolling away from me toward a group of yankees gathered in right to shag balls.

one of whom is jim "catfish" hunter. and he is the one who ambles over, chaw of tobacco like a large golfball puffing out his left cheek. and i'm, like, fuck, that's catfish, who's just taking his time getting to the ball, looking up at the crack of the bat and following the flight of the ball above and behind him when it soars over the green padded wall.

when he picks up the ball he doesn't stop approaching, he keeps coming, examining the thing for i don't know what, maybe a contact blemish - the ball had been smoked - and now all the kids are clamoring for it, waving gloves, shouting for the ball, calling out here catfish, over here.

not me, though. i am content to watch one of the better pitchers to ever play get closer and closer with the ball he keeps rotating in his experienced fingers.

and then he looks at me and i know. well, easy to say know now; i guess hoped optimistically might be more accurate. regardless, he does in fact get to us and stick that ball through all those gloves straight into mine, says nice catch, even just those two words dripping a little north carolinian draw.

then he walked back to his position with teammates shagging b-p. i turned with my prize to see if peter had seen it, and he had, just shaking his head at my amazing good fortune.

jim freaking catfish cy young winning perfect game hunter, y'all. 

a penny

everytime a penny
upon the sidewalk shines,
i pick it up, all day goodluck,
according to her signs.

everytime a penny,
upon the sidewalk lost,
reminds me how the little things
can accrue to such a cost.

found object bracelet

flower street sidewalk near ihop @ 8th 
stamped "fvr 14k"

Monday, July 7, 2014

Dear Diary: Dog Beach

trained down to solana yesterday for beachtime with my brother jay.

beautiful day and warm (enough) water temperatures.

shoulda been better with sunscreen.

jeremy roenick showed up with his great dane. shook his hand.

the usual ending at chief's and the late train home.

kendra was still there and impressed i'd remember her name and the celtic necklace pendant.

much needed medicine.


Thursday, July 3, 2014

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

dream: more sam shepard



brief. we're sitting in a truck, he's in the driver's seat. it's early morning, still dark, so dark we are only shapes. i don't know where we're going but i'm happy to be in the truck, even a little excited.

it's the start of a new day shaping up well.

thank Yi.