another black body down. face smashed into the gravel like so many rocks driven over until they become the road; no relief from the...

We were the grandchildren of cigarette burns And peacocks in the front yard. Of jumping into muddy pond water after frogs. Of blessings...

I got my first period in late 2002 or early 2003. It was around then too that I had a second set of braces removed, shed my childish Keds...

The clock hand spins Rounding the hours Of another late Manhattan night Awaiting our subway Our faces twist inward Drab air bats against...

“I want to be back in the van, where evil never would nor could nor should ever understand. Back in the van, it's anything, but their...

There’s a setting for every story and a season for all senses. Though not all pages pair with all potions, and not all parchment promises...

1. So many poems were written for you, 2. about you, but none of them with you. 3. You never even cared enough to read them. 4. I guess...

In 1966, John Baldessari burned his entire collection of paintings. The ashes were returned in Nine urns, One URN was the size used for...

…latches onto the nearest passing thought like a leech on fickle flesh. it won’t pry or peel, but remains stuck like clothing left on...

That day he threw us out my mother and me. Very few people know this. Not my older sister, not my older brother. That day, he packed up...

Just when I think I’m done, said everything that can be heard, reached the end of sharing it all Just when I think there are no more...

The pumping won’t cease. It pumps. And it pumps. And it pumps. A poetic heart races with creative resilience. Never changing its left...