When I was five years old, my grandmother got me a Saturday job with her neighbor, Mrs. Madison. My job was to help collect eggs and feed the chickens. I scattered grain and filled the water cans. I didn’t collect eggs from any hens that pecked at my hands. I did carry the basket, but only… Read More

Grad Night             1968. Disneyland hosted an all-night grad night for high school seniors in South California. About twenty classmates and I dropped LSD for the first time, on the bus to The Magic Kingdom. The little pills were called Blue Flats. Pharmaceutical. Word was they were made at UCLA.… Read More

Susan B Coombs Jr. High School. Seventh Grade. Miss Davies. Homeroom. We were given a woodcut/Rorschach image to view, then write a poem. I don’t remember the poem. But Miss Davies told the class that we had a fine writer and poet in our class, then read my poem. My ears blazed. I felt like… Read More

For years, I subscribed to Omni magazine. They gave me concrete visions of the future, belief in possibility. While The Twilight Zone freed my imagination, Omni told me who was working on what and how it would affect us all. When new technology became available, I’d been expecting it. Like The Sun, it became a… Read More

Whatever high-pitched motor was driving me faded to a kind of thrum--something like my heartbeat.  Read More

Honest Work            Working as a carpenter was the most honest work I have ever done. In the beginning, I saved for the family that hadn’t yet materialized. Later, I left the house treading softly with babies snuffling familiar scents. My wife always got up with me, made me breakfast, handed me a lunch. Those… Read More

Windows fogged, bad shocks rocking, breathing like final breaths on a battlefield, bucket seats belong on kayaks, Danny Kaye got rich and nobody knew what he looked like. Read More

Even though I received a formal invitation to participate in the Viet Nam war, I declined. Read More

    Cadaver Lab           Formaldehyde Shiny floors And two black bags with zippers Awaiting parturition I sought secrets revealed by the dead   A sexy professor with smooth skin Pulled round the zippers And let in the light Illuminating a brain behind the skull A heart behind the breast A… Read More

On Mr. Toad’s Ride, I was killed by a freight train. But Small World put me back together. Read More