The Season

Poetry
By: | June 24, 2008

The lawn’s a frigid jigsaw puzzle     of frozen brown grass Shut in for winter     I sip your best scotch Your car is listed for sale     in the auto shopper There’s no tree… More

Knowing a Place

Poetry
By: | May 10, 2007

You can’t love a place unless you know itreally know it like you were born theremoved there young had time to explorewalk the streets talk to the peopleNew… More

Shame

Memoir
By: | November 10, 2006

Mama always took me with her to pick up her paycheck at the café on Wednesday afternoons. Sitting on a stool at the counter, sipping a chocolate shake, I… More

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