The Tuna in Cabo
11 December 2006
Vol. 6, No. 4
poetry
At least, he thought
It was the rain: coastal showers,
The sand taking it all in,
Some higher power's blotter
For everything unknown.
The Holy Waters of Penzance
7 December 2005
Vol. 5, No. 4
poetry
One weekend in June, we rushed
The shore, hoping
For a mass baptism, one
Might guess. We wore nothing,
And she carried the saddest look
Of anyone in that crowd.