Four Haiku
at the barre the graceful arms of a spiral galaxy a touch of sleet— my son’s voice […]
at the barre the graceful arms of a spiral galaxy a touch of sleet— my son’s voice […]
You looked at me and saw my mother’s face. We thought old age meant occasional slips— back then, we didn’t
Bless the unglamorous panties crusted with blood, the smear of lotion around the bottle’s cap. Bless the discount bubble bath
A line that looks dead straight can be an arc like the horizon when you’re out at sea. True distance
We remembered the old ghost stories, and we told one another that there would be many new stories like that.
What’s the difference between a box of sparks that talks and a bag of water that talks? Words pour into