Capitalism
Along the two-lane blacktops of my childhood we stopped to buy watermelons. Mother thumped them, listening for that deep, ripe […]
Along the two-lane blacktops of my childhood we stopped to buy watermelons. Mother thumped them, listening for that deep, ripe […]
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