In the world, there is forever fever: We read the signs, blazing in historic orange. We straddle our majestic fates, ride our caution horses up to the edge, and prepare ourselves to be known, We drop our weapons in the dust, and unveil with the other prairie dogs—a global disrobal. We read too much tar […]Read more "Exquisite Cognomen or “How to Name Our Pain”"
the mother cradles her infant, a tapered cocoon in the crook of her left arm, from the white blanket, a lick of crow black hair floats up— dark down, feathered fingers towards a distracted frown. she does not look down into the pink rosebud of her daughter’s upturned face, the glinting grey pebbles of her […]Read more "we used to write love letters"
The way I write has changed over the years. So has the venue where the writing has appeared. Also, the moisture content. It has become drier as a result of working in higher education and the mental health field, spending precious, gentle, vibrant language on diplomatic emails and research papers. This has been a steady […]Read more "Measuring the Marigolds"