Chuck Brickley, born in San Francisco in 1947, graduated from Westmoor High School, San Mateo College and San Jose State University, and currently lives in Daly City. His haiku, senryu, haibun and hay(na)ku have been published in leading haiku journals and anthologies worldwide since 1978. His collection of haiku, earthshine (Snapshot Press, 2017, in its 4th printing), is the winner of the Touchstone Distinguished Book Award for 2017 (The Haiku Foundation), and received Honorable Mention in the Merit Book Award for 2017 (Haiku Society of America) and the Marianne Bluger Book Award for 2020 (Haiku Canada). One of his haibun was nominated for the Pushcart Prize (2018), another for the Sonders Best Small Fiction Award (2019). Brickley is the contest coordinator for the Haiku Society of America, and a judge for the Touchstone Award for Individual Poems sponsored by The Haiku Foundation.

Poems on Belonging

HAIKU/SENRYU

luna piena
a refugee eyes you
from a kelp bed

(NOON: Journal of the Short Poem, Issue 20, 2021)

alley frost
except
where he slept

(Frogpond 42.2, 2019)

backfire
the Senator flinches
in his pew

(Frogpond 43.2, 2020)

black smoke
a cabbage white
fights the wind

(Modern Haiku 51.1, 2020)


HAY(NA)KU

              compacting 
       my dreams
morning garbage truck

(Frogpond 43.3, 2020)

hourglass
your shape
is killing me

(Frogpond 43.3, 2020)


FROM EARTHSHINE (Snapshot Press, 2017)

forsythia
the widow's blinds
part slightly

(Mariposa 31, 2014)

last lilac
the bee's shadow slips
to a lower leaf

(Modern Haiku 15.1, 1984)

a snowshoe hare
hops through its breath
morning star

(Modern Haiku 11.3, 1980)

Copyright © 2022 by Chuck Brickley. Used with permission of the author.

SevanKelee Boult (bka Lucky 7) is a well known Bay Area poet and East Palo Alto native. She has been seen on HBO Real Sex since 2000. She has represented several Bay Area slam teams over the past 10 years. In 2014, she became the only person in the Bay to win the honored title Grand Slam Champion of 4 different Bay teams (SF, Berkeley,Oakland and Palo Alto). She has performed all across the country. Gracing such places as The De Young Museum in San Francisco as well as Yerba Buena, and the Marsh Theater. A UC Berkeley graduate with a minor in Theatre Arts, SevanKelee has been crafting her spoken word performance.

Sevan Kelee has been writing since childhood. Her most recent artistic venture involves the ukulele and spoken word. She effortlessly blends music and poetry to engage the audience with her soft, raspy voice and mesmerizing stage presence.

Poems on Belonging

“I Am No,” “I Carry This Weight for My People,” and other poems on belonging performed at RISE 2020 Women’s Leadership Conference

Jerry Bolick is a poet, teacher and adult literacy tutor, who has worked with youth and adults, encouraging reflection, self-expression and improved literacy through poetry. He sees haiku as a natural gateway to the larger world of poetry. He hosts the SMCL Haiku Club third Thursday of every month from 7:00 pm – 8:30.

Appointed as Poet Laureate by the City of Pacifica in 2017, Camincha Benvenutto began her four-year term at age 83. Originally hailing from Miraflores, Lima, Peru, she calls the United States her second home. A single mother, grandmother, multi-genre artist, and advocate for the arts and for immigrant rights, she keeps close to her roots and believes that “it is much easier to get where you want to go when you are proud of where you come from.” She was selected by KDTV for their segment “One of Ours” to honor her contributions to the Latin American community. A self-taught visual artist, she has exhibited her works at SFSU and other venues around the Bay Area. She is also the author of three poetry chapbooks and the bilingual novel As Time Goes By (2013) / Con el Pasar del Tiempo (2015). A San Francisco Bay Guardian review notes that she “frames the ordinary in a way that makes it extraordinary, and that is real talent.” Her poems, short stories, and translated work in English and Spanish have been featured in various online and print media. She was a Litquake featured author from 2005 to 2008, and hosted a community writing group in her home in Pacifica for many years. Camincha earned her master’s degree in Spanish Literature and French from San Francisco State University in 1986. Her professional work as a translator and interpreter spanned a diverse range of roles. A prolific poet, she has been writing poems since she was 13 and has over 300 poems that are still unpublished.

Camincha passed away on May 1, 2025, at 3:33pm, in her home in Pacifica. San Mateo County Supervisor Ray Mueller offered words of remembrance at the May 6, 2025 Board of Supervisors Meeting (02:20). In life, Camincha’s spirit shone brightly, and she will be remembered with love and gratitude forever.

Poem on Belonging

YOUNG GIRL

in San Francisco ¿qué pasa?
These days,
a lot man! and it’s heavy
You can visit an art show,
a park, a restaurant
in the Mission
and feel is a plot
to transport you to Latin América
and you come out wondering
Why didn’t I make this trip before?
With your pride surging knowing
what you want most is:  to tell
the world that you are 
           A  LATINA. 

Copyright © 2019 by Camincha Benvenutto. This poem originally appeared in Speak Poetry Vol. 2. Used with permission of the author.

Poet Laureate Project

Camincha hosted regular poetry readings at Florey’s Bookshop and Pacifica Library, mentored younger poets, convened a writers group in her home, organized poetry and art events in collaboration with other creatives, and proudly represented the City of Pacifica in various art and civic events around the Bay Area.

Jorge Tetl Argueta, appointed to serve as San Mateo County Poet Laureate from 2022 to 2024, is a celebrated Salvadoran poet and writer whose bilingual children’s books have received numerous awards. His poetry has appeared in anthologies and textbooks. He won America’s Book Award, among other awards for his first collection of poems for children, A Movie in My Pillow. He was the Gold Medal Award winner in the 2005 National Parenting Publications Awards (NAPPA) for Moony Luna/Luna, Lunita Lunera. His other works for children include Xochitl and the Flowers, 2003 America’s Award Commended Title, Trees are Hanging from the Sky, Zipitio, Talking with Mother Earth, The Little Hen in the City and The Fiesta of the Tortillas.

Poem on Belonging

LA MONTAÑA DE SAN BRUNO

En las verdes montañas 
De San Bruno
Un delicioso sabor a Eucalipto 
Flota en los caminos 

El viento helado 
Trepa por las veredas
La neblina silenciosa 
Se mezcla entre las amapolas
Como gotitas de miel 
O campanitas de oro
Tiemblan sus pétalos  
Y besan la tierra 

Desde aquí veo el sur de San Francisco
Sus casas en fila india 
Parecen trencitos que en silencio 
Se alejan quién sabe a dónde? 

Desde aquí también puedo ver Colma
Una vez alguien me dijo 
Que en Colma hay más muertos 
Que vivos
Yo no se si es cierto
Pero en Colma abundan los cementerios
Y hay en la neblina de Colma 
Un gran silencio oscuro 

Allá más al este está Brisbane 
Sus calles parecen que terminan en la bahía 
O se pierden en los cerros 
De las chimeneas de las casas de Brisbane  
Salen hilitos de humo que como gusanitos 
Se van trepando al cielo

Al norte esta el puente Golden Gate 
Un gigante colgando 
Uniendo montañas y ciudades 
El Golden Gate puerta dorada hacia el Pacifico
Puente donde se reflejan 
Los amaneceres y los atardeceres  
Y las noches todas 
Pueden verse de esta mágica montaña

De la montaña de San Bruno
Puedo ver y escuchar el BART
Que va cantando sobre rieles 
Tren-pez que cruza la Bahia  de bajo de agua

Allá a lo lejos otro hermoso gigante color de neblina
El puente de la Bahia
Enlazando ciudades y montañas
Oakland, Berkeley, Hayward…

Al pie de la montaña de San Bruno
Ahí esta la ciudad de Daly City 
Donde se habla Tagalo y Arabe,
Donde puedes comer falafel
Y barbacoa Coreana
Y comida China y Griega
Y Sushi y Pupusas
y Tacos al pastor

Daly City, donde estas cerca del mar 
Y cuando llega la neblina 
Parece que Daly City
También es el cielo
Donde si, es cierto hace frio 
Pero no en el corazón  

Desde esta montaña de San Bruno
Hoy he visto todo esto 
Y abro mis brazos 
Y al cerrarlos abrazo la montaña 
El dulce corazón de Dios 


SAN BRUNO MOUNTAIN

In the green mountains
Of San Bruno
A delicious Eucalyptus flavor
Floats along the roads

The cold wind
Climb the trails
The silent fog
Blends in among the poppies
Like drops of honey
Or little bells of gold
The petals quiver 
And kiss the earth

From here I see South San Francisco
Its single file houses
They look like little trains silently 
Moving off to who knows where?

From here I can also see Colma
Someone once told me
That in Colma 
There are more dead people 
Than live ones
I don't know if it's true
But in Colma cemeteries abound
And in the fog of Colma
Is a great dark silence

Farther east is Brisbane
Its streets seem to end in the sea
Or get lost in the hills
From the chimneys of Brisbane’s houses
Come little threads of smoke
That climb to the sky
Like little worms

To the north is the Golden Gate Bridge
A giant hanging there
Connecting mountains and cities
The Golden Gate a golden door
To the Pacific
The bridge reflecting   
Sunrises and sunsets
And the mystery of nights can be seen From this magical mountain San Bruno

From San Bruno Mountain 
I can see and hear the BART Train
Singing along it’s rails 
The fish-train that crosses 
The Bay under water 

Far away
Another beautiful giant 
The color of fog
The Bay Bridge
Connecting  cities and mountains 
Oakland, Berkeley, Hayward…

At the foot of the mountain 
There's the city of Daly City
Where Tagalog and Arabic are spoken,
Where can you can eat falafel
and Korean barbecue
And Chinese and Greek food
And Sushi and Pupusas 
and Tacos al pastor

Daly City, where you are near the sea
And when the mist comes
Looks like Daly City
it's also heaven
Where yes, it's true it's cold
but not in the heart

From this San Bruno mountain
Today I have seen all this
And I open my arms
And when I close them I hug the Mountain
God's sweet heart

Copyright © 2022 by Jorge Argueta. Used with permission of the author.

Find Jorge’s books in the library!

Caravan to the North (2019)
Fuego, fueguito = Fire, little, fire = Tit, Titchin (2019)
Jimena Pérez puede volar (2019)
Agua, agüita (2017)
En Carne Propia (2017)
La fiesta de las tortillas (2016)
Somos como las nubes (2016)
Olita y Manyula (2015)
Salsa (2015)
and more!

Civic Engagement

Poetry for Everyone! | Poesía para todos!

For over 30 years, Jorge Argueta has successfully taught creative writing to students of all ages, visiting schools, libraries, juvenile halls, homeless shelters, children’s hospitals, and art environments.

The City of Daly City proclaimed October 2, 2019 as Jorge Argueta Day.

Terry is an only child, having provided mothering training and opportunities to a large Irish female family. His mid-west rearing ended in an MA in English from Miami University, Ohio. For more of his poems see terryadamspoetry.net. His first collection, Adam’s Ribs, is from Off The Grid Press, in Weld, Maine. He lives in Ken Kesey’s infamous 1960’s cabin in La Honda, California.

Poem on Belonging

THE LITTLE COUNTRY IN THE BIGGER COUNTRY

I am from my family which became at least three
families before I was 12,  
but I go back to remembering myself a toddler, toted on an aproned hip to breakfast of
Sun-Maid raisins, milk (always milk), Aunt Jemima pancakes, and I am still wondering 
how Cheerios are made round.    I was high-chaired, nose-wiped –
in the odor of fresh coal-fire winter mornings.

I am a wartime household of Kansas City Irish sisters, eating victory garden pole-beans, 
enlisted to help save tin-foil balls, rubber-band and spare-string balls, 
and I wish they were still alive –  Aunt Helen, forever crossing herself, who swept
the creamery after-hours,
Aunt Agnes tapping her black Shillelagh cane, railroad-capped Great-Aunt Grace late
of convent life, and Mother with her thin Angelic face.

I was carried so much I learned to stand and warm my toes in apron pockets.
I am from Arm & Hammer cleaner boxes, Calumet baking soda tubes, spoon-fed,
while tenors around the fireplace sang.   Face dab-washed with spitted cloths
multi times per day., 

I collected cereal box-top, cut-out, folding toys, thread spindles, pencil stubs.
I am scraps of our firewood made into battleships,
once a balloon for a dirigible.  .

My mittens were stringed through pea-coat sleeves, then ear-flaps
of my hat were tied –  into sidewalk snow I shuffled.
I am the little Laddie from ‘nose to grindstone,’ parachute-sewing, mother, 
napping before her midnight shift.     
I am  “A long way To Tipperary –  Irish “Gig” on the radio.
I was from father who mightn’t come back from Bastogne Dunkirk, waiting.
Newsreel P-51s nosed over the carrier deck in flames.  
On the radio happy news – the steady march of French cities liberated

I have an Old photo of me in sailor-hat and wooden stroller, rolling in the noon 
as the sun beaned on mother’s freckled face.
I got to watch the treasured wringer washer, 
and fear the coal-bin,  the back yard trash fires. 
I am still the first time 
I was sent to the out-house alone.
I am that first dime I fisted onto the collection plate for the poor, next door.
Ma Bell, Rosie Riveter, Ghibelline eyeliner, paper dress-patterns.
I am from Gingham aprons galore, steam radiators knocking,

Always the Angelus before dinner:
Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariæ,
Et concepit de Spiritu Sancto.

Six or eight bare knees on that painted wooden floor. 
I was kissed good-night against six or eight breasts before every sleep, my forehead 
wetted by sweaty cheeks, wiry necks,    & prayed the Lord
our souls to keep.
It’s all in one small attic photo box, and the accents of the Emerald Isle
I heard everyday.   The Emerald Isle, which I’ve never seen.

Copyright © 2022 by Terry Adams. Used with permission of the author.

Civic Engagement

Co-Founder, La Honda Lit Nite

“If you’re driving Highway 84 and see this sign by the side of the road, it’s Lit Nite in La Honda, California. Once a month, locals gather out of the redwood forest into Sullivan’s Pub to read or recite before a live, friendly, and somewhat lubricated audience in the bar. Participants include building contractors, a gardener, a veterinarian, a high school student, a goat farmer, a singer, a teacher, a nuclear physicist, dropouts, published writers. They read from their own work, or they read from books. They read poetry, stories, rants, even a comic book. The event is hosted by myself (unknown novelist) and Terry Adams (unknown poet). We’ve been doing it for a couple of years now, last Wednesday of the month. It’s fun; it’s friendly; it brings us together; it lets us try out our voices and our ideas. It brings literature down to earth.”

La Honda Lit Nite Co-Founder Joe Cottonwood, quoted in The New Yorker