Pink dogwoods against a blue sky

Advice from a dead best friend

Put on your shoes and walk in the world,
talking to me. I’m right here with you;
I’m always within reach. It’s a good time
to chat, so go ahead. You’ll know it’s me
when you know it’s me. But even when
you’re not sure, I’m listening.

Middle

From our place in the middle of the river of grief, the rickety raft begins to disintegrate.

Modesto ash

Jan Haag teaches journalism and creative writing at Sacramento City College where she is the chair of the journalism department and advises student publications. She is the author of Companion Spirit, a collection of poems about her husband’s death at the age of 48, published by Amherst Writers & Artists Press. She leads writing groups in […]

Death Of An Old Soul

From a distance I can see something’s changed – it’s half its former height, its top a jagged spear – and on the ground a massive section of trunk, its arms octopus’d as if it tried to catch itself as it fell.

Moonstruck

I was out watering the plants in my front yard a couple months ago, trying to give them a good drink before the heat of a Sacramento August day, when Robert Gordon walked by. He was moving at his usual fast pace, paint-spattered shorts to his knees, flip-flops squishing in the water I’d inadvertently added to the sidewalk.

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