Category Archives: Words

Stories, essays, blogs

Creative Quest #3: To Box the Wind

Posted on July 16, 2018 by

I asked a poet friend recently– semi jokingly and semi seriously– if it was allowable to write a poem after Terrance Hayes, who wrote a poem after Federico García Lorca, when I haven’t studied the poetry of either writer very … Continue reading →

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Creative Quest #2: Names of Old Friends

Posted on June 3, 2018 by

This month marks the five-year anniversary of The Perfect Peach, a collection of recipes and stories from the Masumoto Family Farm. It feels funny to say that a cookbook has deeply touched my life in all aspects. But in the … Continue reading →

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Quest #1: Beauty in the Central Valley

Posted on December 26, 2017 by

So first, a collage poem, made from ingredients found in my neighborhood: What is beauty in this Valley? That’s hard. What kind of beauty? It could be any beauty you’d like. The mountains. Say more about why. You have a … Continue reading →

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A Conversation with Nikiko Masumoto

Posted on November 1, 2017 by

I am happy to announce that I am the inaugural Masumoto Family Fellowship recipient, for 2017-18. To mark the public announcement of the fellowship, I had a great conversation with agrarian artist (and my dear friend) Nikiko Masumoto on Oct. … Continue reading →

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On Eating Soyrizo

Posted on April 3, 2017 by

Oh Trader Joe’s, I owe you my deepest Pocho gratitude for your soy chorizo. “The authenticity comes from the spices,” you say, and I believe you. Who needs meat when fake meat tastes this good? After my Caucasian wife lovingly … Continue reading →

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After Reading Winter Stars on the Radio

Posted on March 21, 2017 by

After Reading Winter Stars on the Radio for Michael Luis Medrano The first time I read Elegy by Larry Levis, I didn’t get it. My poet friend who used to be a journalism major gave it to me as a … Continue reading →

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Foreign Words

Posted on February 4, 2017 by

Foreign Words You apologized for the foreign words you wrote but I did not mind. The bare, ugly line about dobra pička cut like no English could. Supernatural, your cross-eyed, snorting laughter left us fortunate.

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