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toy soldiers arrayed for battle dirt clods piled high, piled ready hands work, hands arrange, the cattle a shout of challenge joyfully proclaims my hill, my clods, my… More

The Chameleon Couch

The One-Handed ConcertoAfter Paul Wittgensteinlost his right hand in the Great War,he begged his friend Ravelfor a concerto of muted tom-toms& peacock feathers underneath the tempo.Something oceanic, with gusto… More

Lines

lines that bind or tie together our shared histories meander like the mighty Mississippi intricate web—emit the life of our times, flow organically as tree branches etch a map upon our brows, cheeks … visual reminders to all… More

Feather

A single feather fell from my ceiling I certainly was not expecting that Nor was I expecting such a feeling From inside this jail cell where I’ve sat Minute after day after month,… More

salsa meditation

my hands will smell for days of onions, garlic and jalapeños despite repeated washings after slicing, dicing and mincing with my trusty lid-o-matic and plastic picnic knife essential utensils of a prison… More

Longings

I miss the feeling of weightlessness while floating in the ocean and staring at the clear blue sky, gently bobbing to the rhythm of events beyond the horizon. I miss the salt stinging my… More

How She Penetrates

According to family lore, there was a great bonfire in which all of Jane’s possessions perished. Her journals, her clothes, her scrapbooks, her books, her typewriter, her school papers,… More

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protesters in face masks carrying old Belarusian national flags

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