Hola and a carton of leche — I grew up speaking one language and only had a single identity. I had no special connection to another culture; never had a foreign perspective or fluent in another tongue. I never spoke Hebrew or traversed the desert during biblical times. I never wore a cross around my neck, or tacked…

Sweet and idyllic — On a summer holiday, I watch the ocean from a cliff. I gaze down an endless coastline, and follow the sea with each cosmic respiration. People scatter on the sandy floor in play and rest — in movement and repose — frisbees flying, a Labrador retrieves a red ball, and worries washed out…

Ventura, California Pictures — I don’t surf, but I’ll get on a paddle board once in a while and make loops around the marina. I envy those cool cat surfers with waxed boards who are water acrobats. They first paddle out to flat water, and once the right wave comes, they quickly hop upright…

The Mein Kampf of the Kama Sutra — Imagine being one of Hitler’s lovers, in bed with a ragin’ despot, screwed both males and females, commandants and German shepherds — led them down the road to sexual perversion, masochistic morality, naked indignity — the Mein Kampf of the Kama Sutra Adolf Small Willy could barely break a rat’s cherry…

I’m tired of following the crowd — There comes a day when you don’t give a shit about fitting in. You go with your flow and don’t complain — don’t try, don’t strain. Screw buying a new car. After you drive them, you get bored and want a new one. The hell with getting an expensive watch; the cheap ones…

And thanks for being the not-so-perfect older brother — When I heard you died, Wally, it was like my big brother had passed. I was an only child, but from 1957 to 1963, you were my surrogate older brother. I imagined you being the brother who could rescue me from bullies and help me solve everyday problems. You had…

A poem for The Lark poetry competition — Old trees have wisdom, bent over like aging prophets preaching. The crows say I have arrived for a new beginning, and point me in the right direction. The fragrance of lavender wafts through the air, reviving my waning spirit. I go to Oak Park each afternoon to transform my rigid soul…