So what you going get for your girlfriend? Valentine Day l’dat? –I no mo girlfriend, Uncle. No mo? Bettah get one before you get too old like me. –You had girlfriend? Or was always Aunty? Girlfriends, boy. Girlfriends. I was one Romeo and all da Juliets went call fo me: Romeo, Romeo where fo you…

My ironwood tree is a ghost. My habit of calling it MY tree has made it the ghost of an idea I had nearly twenty years ago when I planted it in front of our new home. Sort of invented it. Let it in, you might say. The right one, one always hopes. That was…

Rules? There are no stinking rules. Oh, wait — Every Monday through Friday, a word of the day will appears under the BLOGS tab at the top of the page, second tab from the left, next to the HOME tab. Choose any word of the day as a trigger for your piece. You are welcome,…

When I was a kid and ate candy bars, my favorite was Mountain Bar. Like a miniature mountain with a heavy coating of peanut-laced milk chocolate, its nougat interior sweetly beckoned, insisted, welcomed. The largest billboard on Tacoma’s busiest intersection was once filledwith the picture of a giant Mountain Bar with one neatly nougat-revealing bite…

“My dad’s better’n your dad.” “My dad’s stronger.” “My dad can pick up a bag of cement.” “My dad can pick up a bag of cement with one hand.” “Can he run with it? Like my dad?” “Like your mom, you mean.” “Your mom has a mustache. My dad’s taller than your dad.” “My dad…

Comfort Chicken Long time ago. We used to have pets dat we love and feed and take care dem. We save da bes piece of leftovah meat fo dem. We fogive dem even wen dey go shi-shi or numbah two wrong time, wrong place. We jes tell, “Das okay, bebe…” Dey depend on you. And…

So I looking in da laxative aisle at Longs. I get one problem. All kine get: prescription strength, fast action, gentle action. For me, no action. Da CVS enema on sale and den I remembah: one guy on da mainland went buy um, and den return da used enema to CVS. Always get somebody try…

At the edge of consciousness, a rhythmic sound like breath of leaves being swept, of leaves sweeping the window, the wall, the rooftop– distinct from the floating thunder of the Lunalilo freeway, consistent in its persistence, persistent in its anonymity. Dream state descending, the ascent of awareness. In the shroud covered stillness I hear her–whispers…

Silence. Our house, we neva talk. Daddy come home and only tell about work. Not even one long story but one short, Morse code kine story. Like we supposed to know. “Boss said….errybody said yeah, yeah.” Same old, same old. He ansa his own question, “Whachugoingdo?” Mama only tell what she need, “Rice running out.”…