Tag Archives: Dogs

Tall and Small (34)

Posted on November 23, 2011 by Riba

I see Helga and Gino partway down Indian Trail as I’m crossing Sonora. We wave to each other, and I keep going. What, I can’t walk in a different direction so I can say hello? There is no reason I … Continue reading →

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Dogless (21)

Posted on August 30, 2011 by Riba

I close the gate behind me and head out through the wall of heat 111 degrees at eight o’clock at night. It is hard to move hard to keep going hard to breathe impossible to think of anything else. There … Continue reading →

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Poetry and Prose (17)

Posted on August 18, 2011 by Riba

“Do you know what you are?” an editor asked Ray Bradbury in his youth. “You’re a poet!” I love knowing he told him this. I am not a poet, am I? It is prose that comes to me. But might … Continue reading →

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