I followed the moonlight to shore,
and surfaced from a foamy break,
ears plugged and nose draining,
seaweed stuck to my limbs,
a grand return to the beach,
a soul reborn
I had bathed in the universal womb,
healing my salty wounds,
propelling my long, lean body
through swirling currents,
that crested and swelled…
Inside the vet’s waiting room, everything smelled of dog hair and cat piss. My beloved Russian Blue was in the carrier whining, as well he should. He was going to get a sex change — well, kind of. …
If only I could walk with Brother Thay,
find happiness in the here and now —
realize there’s no beginning or end,
that people are all the same —
and connected in many ways
If only I were compassionate,
not condescending and full of pity,
take care of my emotions,
open up my…
My inner child is a curious bird
with peculiar interests —
cravings and needs —
to search and hope —
fall and skin a knee
My inner child walks on spindly legs,
flies over houses and mountains,
balances on a high wire,
sways back and forth
with an ocean breeze
…
While waiting in Room 7, I told myself not to get angry at my doctor because he was running late. Instead, I kept giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had a patient who needed extra attention. …
At first, I had little hope. My future was bleak — stuck in a wheelchair at the nursing home and a breathing tube in my nose. The aides fed, bathed, and dressed me like a baby. Life was a series of days that all came together as one bad dream.
…
Sadness hovers in clouds
A flag at half-mast
The crows scatter
The night has wilted in the sky
without a moon to shine a light
The father’s car is in the driveway
His golf clubs in the garage
A police uniform packed in the attic
His ties hang by his…
Mock-ing-bird, yeah Mockingbird,
perched atop a branch
as the golden sunshine
soothes your grayish feathers,
and you tweet a Carly Simon song
for this amateur photographer
Show me your profile — take a pose,
you don’t need to leave,
no other bird to imitate,
no hawks or snakes to ward off
You have…
Zagar captures our fragmented times
His personality is a mosaic
on walls, the sides of buildings
filling South Street with
his tortured and beautiful
Behind his glass bottles,
and glued gargoyles,
there is much complexity
in his schizophrenic synapses,
his compulsive arches and pathways
His whole life is
art and the…
