Yanamama

We must have been The very image of White trash that night Battered truck Holes in the knees of My tattered jeans I was barefoo...

Poetry is The essence Of language Oceans of words Distilled To a few lines Not one word Out of place Not one extra Grap...

Grit-clad glass tunnels delicate hollows branch downward through sand jagged shards that capture the sky upside-down lightning ...

I'm at the amusement park on the 4th of July. We came late, The Boy and I, because we are staying for the fireworks. He can handle any ...

Dust devils lifted debris and spattered it against the white curvature of the old airplane, scouring fresh glistening scars deep into...

I strayed to your side of the bed last night. For a week now I've only occupied My half Of our private square. I was restless wit...

A/C cranks loud drowned by wind chimes that tease in gusts. Neighbors are drawn out on stoops and sidewalks to stare at the sky ...