Last Dance on San Bruno Mountain Magazine Issue Jan-Mar 2011 by Linda Watanabe McFerrin Chuang Tzu and the Butterfly Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly, And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking. Which was the real–the butterfly or the man? Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things? The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea Returns anon to the shallows of a transparent stream. The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city, Was once the Prince of the East Hill. So must rank and riches vanish. You know it, still you toil and toil–what...

The Queen (Marie Laveau) and I Laissez les bons temps rouler! And we certainly did at Words and Music 2010 in New Orleans in spite of the fact that the theme was “The Literature of War and Collateral Damage,” or maybe because of it and because “When faced with disaster, the best medicine is laughter” … yes, that’s a direct quote from moi. Believe me, I’ve had experience with this, though the humor is always a dark hilarity and the laughter tends to sound more like a cackle. I followed exactly that prescription when I returned to New Orleans for my first trip...

I am lost, swimming in the soft light of the bison’s umber eye, where I feel myself reflected. Above me the sky arcs, an incredible big top of robin’s-egg-blue that dips down to meet the vast carpet of tawny grasses on a distant horizon. I do not think it is especially wise to be staring into the bison’s brown eye. This shaggy creature looks to be about six feet at the shoulder and must weigh over a ton. But I am rooted to the spot, suspended in time, breathless and jubilant about coming back to the tallgrass prairie and what remains of the herbaceous ocean that, as little as 100 years ago,...