Poetry

resistance

I fill water. I chop wood. The routine of struggle. Today, as I worked, sweat poured down my body. Tiny splinters slid into my hands — quiet, unnoticed. Later that night, I felt the sting. Not just...

God Underground

God is underground.  The other kids, ones surer than him and more authoritative, said so as they played in the sandbox of the kindergarten. If you dig deep enough, you will see the face of God...

Visit

Tuesday, June 25th The boys will run naked when they get here like Lord of the Flies. Concrete streets are all they know. Clean air will flow up their noses here. Wildflowers & roses are growing...

Nocturne for a Lottery Ticket Man

So what if the night shakes out its loneliness like a woman airing blankets and you crouch in a pool of desklamp light with your pencil and your glass of wine, the day shooting through you in a...