The Two of Me
Like Frida, there are two of me. But they don’t sit next to each other, hold hands, or watch the […]
Like Frida, there are two of me. But they don’t sit next to each other, hold hands, or watch the […]
When Grandma Cecil tickled her bright mandolin below her chin it seemed she scratched an itch and shivered something near
Junior Hughes had just stepped out from Chick’s Burger Bar squinting into the glare of early summer sun, his toothpick
I resent the men who’ve come to mark our land. On breaks they sit inside their giant pickup trucks,
There is only one ring for those sweating horses with the preternaturallyflat backs and the fat smooth rumps from which
Cold spring morning and the grade-school kitchen ladies pack quick-fix meals for poor kids because the rona’s on a killing