- May 9, 2022
The first night in the city I saw the sticker of a skeleton and roses on the back window of a rust orange Nova, I think, and smelled the scent of jasmine wafting through the open windows of a
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- April 22, 2022
This is how it is now in these times. What grows around me matters big time. The sunflowers and the nasturtium seed planted in giant plastic containers. The tiny sprouts in the morning grown taller, little leaves and stems
- April 22, 2022
I feel for the antediluvian forests Being systemically cut for American lumber for building Spreading more civilization, European biomass for burning As factory-made fuel, new Means to spoil the air— Critters of the trees, of wings and paws, Forced
- February 16, 2022
Too often lately, on my nightly walk I make out a form half in shadow down the block. I’m sure that she or he waits on their dog, but closer it’s the work of dark and fog. More clearly
- January 14, 2022
me, lying on the concrete, not even meeting your eyes you, sitting crossed-legged with a half-smile on your lips him, falling off the longboard and laughing for an empty ballroom me, catching the peeling smiles from his skin and
- November 17, 2021
Learning to let go We are rich in last days Call it practiceHard at first to stomachOvernightsVisits from distant friendsVacationsPetsSummer campEarly onWe can carry on, cryTake weeks to recoverLater there are School, weekendsRomancesLast performances of choirs, dance troupes, playsLast days of
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