Diary

i name bridges of every day the morning commute is a bridge connecting the comfort of my bed to the grind of the pens that i push— papers i fold into model F-14 tomcats 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

Villanelle to Pio

Speak to me. Though you find me deaf as a stone,/ help me to find the lonely, bloody son of Ruth,/ who speaks to hearing ears that they are… 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

The Apple

A limb reaching heavenward just as we journey in awkward crooks and juts and bends at knobby intersections yet upwardly The Apple Fruit snapped free *Broken open by patio bricks Devastated potential for late summertime… More

Rehabilitation

No sky. No grass. No trees, No travel. No children. No wife. No man’s best friend. No trust. No suffrage. No income. No autonomy. No power to do good. More