Category: True Stories That Remember Themselves Wrong
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They tell me God will not abidetwo men walking side by side.Yet when He wanted Heaven drawn,whose scaffold did He call upon? Not Mark. Not John.…
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Night bends. Bends.Its green facepresses the window.A black sun hangs.Its teeth in a glass. My backagainst the crackin the motherwet plaster.It opensto a road,black trees, fog,the…
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Four winters since I drove north aloneevery morning I walk outinto the heavy freezesurprised the snow holds methat I don’t disappear into the groundwinters here…
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When the draftthey pour is bittera poison meant to end youin a dark and desperate turnbecome the wine. When an indifferent worldIs deaf to your prayerwhisper…
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A reflective poem on aging, loss, and the unexpected clarity that comes with growing older, where beauty and impermanence become impossible to ignore.
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For my grandson, BodhiMay you spend every penny and every time. I was born a day late and a dollar in debt,A few sandwiches short and…
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In the tradition of “Go Down, Moses” and every Black Baptist congregation that named Pharaoh on Sunday and walked back into Egypt on Monday. For…
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The brain keeps a map of the body. Your left thumb on the same street as mine. Homunculus neighbors, though we’ve never met. The senses,…
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A lament for the warless, a dirge for the disarmed.
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I. INVENTORY / INVENT-ory / IN-vent <pre>I have painted silence<br />you would not know it by looking</pre>every surface crowd ed<br />every…