You can live all right

I tried learning the language of plants to liberate myself in this post-earthquake era.  I took lessons from the creak of the sunflowers revolving.  It is hard to follow, how they stretch their muscles in the weird and strong ways that they move. They were...

Saint Foy

Moving the bones is what woke me.Jostled in my reliquary,carted from one monastery to another. Foolish monks have forgottenwhy I was a saint in the first place. But the people know. I appear to the woodsman,the farmwife.They see meon the forest path,at the edge of the...

The Last Time

Inside a nightmare of cold sweats and invisible centipedes just like the first time we kicked together, watched Pat Buchanan on TV, mumbled about how we were going to change the world as soon as we could get up. On another channel, we watched her body bent over,...

The Goolabong Man

The Goolabong man is real and waits under the overpass of I-70 and State Highway 178. He wears his heart on his proverbial sleeve and slurps mildewed coffee from weathered Starbucks cups that he finds on the ground next to used condoms, wads of Kleenex, and empty...

Dots, and Ilium

Dots The waves curl and crest. Churn and break. Again and again. Like our breath. Escaping into summer air. We were so young then. Our bodies, Rushmore and Everest, to the ants crawling the grass beneath us. We were giants watching stars and under-bellies of planes....

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