Monthly Archives: February 2018


We are the walking wounded, blow upon blow, day upon day, we cringe, gird, panic, and endure. The grass is greener, of course, until you crest the ridge and tromp through knapweed down to the dry creek bed. For every … Continue reading

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The irascible old radical cussing on the toilet in the rest home wasn’t John Muir, Bob Marshall, or Robinson Jeffers, but he lived in the wilderness of his mind, a Buddhist warrior who called Ginsberg a cock-sucking Commie-Kike. He knew … Continue reading

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