Blood Brothers
Morris Rybeck lowered his eyes from the mute storm clouds in the west, inky with smothered thunderbolts. He leaned forward in the high-cantled saddle and wriggled his hips a… 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
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
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