Author Archives:

Blood Moon Mandarin sun sets into a crimson sky like a love letter slipping into an envelope. Endless blue black tracing across a burnt orange horizon. Tetrad sister Robust and radiant in her ascension into the clear April sky. Foretelling … Continue reading →

A poem should be like a kiss    A kiss can be a spark From which forest fires explode Or a fuse is lit. Generations of calamity Or celebration May flow from one. So can a poem Fire up every gland. … Continue reading →

edits you’ve already written the poem but now you have to fix it the words are there but they’re awkward as first dance the clompy shoes the skinny legs the skirt borrowed from the recalcitrant older sister you’ve already written … Continue reading →

The Basement Stair There was a day when I, a little child, Was dancing in the sunbeam’s shaft that filed Or streamed across the chambered hallways of my mind (I was all joy, no worlds were left to find) And, … Continue reading →

Ostrich Sympathies in Archaeology (v. 3 of So Cold in My Room…) Researching innocence means rubble gets found. This is another ancient language. I can’t— loud things, the past with a crunch. Who hides from the coming war pattern slides … Continue reading →

From Those Who Have Nothing More Will Be Taken Bless them whose beds are cardboard Who break a popsicle in pieces in scorching weather Who share a pair of shoes more holes than leather Who elbow past each other for … Continue reading →

Moon’s Stories it’s in the moon we become lost, never knowing where it will shine, and that moon travels so far, on caravans into Isfahan, or silky days in Beijing, shining light on the sleeping olives in Palestine, and hiding … Continue reading →

All About Rosie Whenever I imagine Rosie, she is always racing up and down the stairs of her building, out to Little Italy, mingling with the famous people who aren’t quite famous yet. The pink record player is on full … Continue reading →

News in the Literary Review Eight authors were killed today, some of them, somewhat prominent, and an unknown number were injured, when a very large crowd of words came rushing toward them, and crushed them under the throng. Hundreds of … Continue reading →

Babel Babel is a village in Wales, a village in Iran. It’s an island in Tasmania where they babble in Tasmanian, where blue waters bubble to the surface, gurgling like a baby growing in the wilds of South Africa, refugee … Continue reading →