The Indian by nature is suspicious, and although easily governed when his confidence has been obtained, it becomes almost impossible to treat with him after his suspicions have been aroused. Report of E. F. Beale, Esq., Superintendent of Indian Affairs for the State of California WASHINGTON CITY, D. C., May 11, 1852 Father is slow to anger. But sometimes I… Read more →
I’ll do you one better, officer. I’ll say it backwards—and tell you a story for each letter. Just call me Scheherazade! Z Z, the best drinking buddy I ever had. Met him at the newspaper I used to work for. He liked me, I liked him as a friend, but he was fun. Flirty, flattering. Drank sweet girly cocktails like… Read more →
As through a fog layer, the sea-scented city park where crows bomb, a warm drowsy spot interprets the bird’s appearance, nuzzled chest feathers open to say, I never forget the dewdrops and sweet william of the mountain westwards, that command me. Come, come. Three minutes. Almost motionless. Tucks head into chest. Then wingspan aloft. Us walkers keep on but I… Read more →