I never had the pleasure of meeting MCN. But, through exchanges on the boards and through his work, I came to know him as an exemplary poet who had the rare gift and ability to touch the heart and soul of his readers. His work was always drawing, well layered, with realistic images and succinct language.

     Through the same board exchanges and interactions I came to know lainie as a friend and sister. My heart bleeds for her and her family as they mourn the loss of this well-gifted man. This poet known as MCN who has touched so many and will always be remembered as one of the greats.

     A prayer for peace and for healing, with love to lainie and to the family of MCN...

As sisters we come to sit.
To knit grief. To hold hands.
We come


to close the circle,


offering tears,
our sacrificial seeds.

Comes The Santa Ana

Collecting sand, silt, and
small white stones. She comes
to gather seeds and crumbs,
heaves her heated breath,


as we draw the sashes
down. Sealing dust
outside, sheltering ourselves
inside while she raves until


wearing. Beyond laid
and civilized timbers, past
the dry rim of foraged and
forgotten rivers, seeds
fall from her dry papered hands.
Light to rest among circles
of stone as tendrils curl
into cracks like gentle cyan
fingers. Plying dry-worn,
terra where desert lilies
begin the birth. Begin
the bloom, again,


despite the drought.