The Tale of La Llorona
I was born with one eye open / on the back of my head.
Chapbooks
Among Peacocks
my father squeezes past, an old scarf jerked and drawn
about his neck. smell drags throughout the house
as they collect loose change from the cushion cheeks.
Punishment
They used books as weapons.
This is not a metaphor.
Because there were no blankets and they were cold,
the men in cell block L threw books
with intent to do bodily harm.
They rained down from above.
Audio, Awards, Chapbook Prize, Chapbooks, Poems
In America
“Why don’t you go to Japan and ask the cats?” I said to the TSA agent when she asked if
Summer Afternoon
With a bucket of sealant and a spent mop on a slow day,
my father sent Prince McMichael and me to muck the buckled seams
along the carpet rolls of pebbled roofing winter freeze and thaw left leaking.
Message from Goldberg, the Landlord with Crutches
When you are old and I am dead,
keep this rent-producing property,
and please, collect the rents.