The Reverberate Hills; or The Apotheosis of the Narwhal

Here's one for Halloween week: Joan la Pucelle Invokes Her Devils Alarum. Excursions. Enter Joan la Pucelle. Pucelle: The Regent co...

The Patient Witch A lady called the Patient Witch Lived near us long ago. Our servants gave her off and on A bit of coin or so, To tel...

Once again, it's been a little gloomy here, so I thought I would switch things up. Our first number this week is from the musical  Chica...

Sunday was one of those unpleasantly hot days that smear through the occasional week here in the Bay Area. Fortunately it had cooled down by...

Sonnet. On Being Cautioned against Walking on an Headland Overlooking the Sea, because it was Frequented by a Lunatic Is there a solitary ...

To Autumn I Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,    Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun, Conspiring with him how to load and ble...

First, a word of warning: as of this time, the BART labor situation is still unsettled. Even for those who don't rely exclusively on pub...

When You Are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream o...

by  Walt Whitman , from When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd , the song of the hermit thrush: Then with the knowledge of death as ...

The Garden of Love I went to the Garden of Love. And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play o...