She towers over her family like a coal tipple. Her bare feet bottoms black from the garden, She’s just come off the hill pickin’ maters Killed her a copperhead. She’s been up since five since she was eight. Rolling dough. Cleanin’ deer. Fetchin’ water. I don’t reckon she’s ever worn no makeup. Her hair drags … More Follow June
Lady Navigation chimed: “Starting Route to 123 Freedom Drive” Mom had pierced a hot Sunday afternoon, screeching tires in June Road signs falling away in a gassy haze, teary backward gaze No parking place ahead, none behind, her minivan lost inside her mind It’s difficult to leave a child But Mommy was already dead, crushed … More Leaving to Home
I am your settled flower vase, heavy by the window. Ripples moan to their death against my insides, long since stems were inserted. You are the sun warming my heavy hourglass, breaking right through this Saturday morning still. You split me into light, forcing rainbows to shoot through these molecular hips onto any shy planes … More Water Changer
Oh, that space. That space between your pillow and your face. Beside your brow end. Where your eye searches, wild, watery. That space a canyon. A parting. A pout. Slide down your bright nose. That space in your mouth. I push my tongue in. Light particles burst, Cerulean blue. What parts were dark red – … More Pillow Canyon
amid blue night light snow sleep baby sleep cool gel filled cheeks rest deep breath steams, curls up over parched coral pout black eyelash train tracks cross nose flares out amid blue night light snow dream baby Go! back up! MA MA MA… friday garbage truck watch out! HOT PUMP kicked on HOT HOT HOT! … More dream baby Go!
we slide on grinding rails through noisy rectangles and glimmering neon light triangles horizontally propelled by panels of bolted sheet metal underground popping my ears full and stuffy me and my girl Sujata our eyes burning, we gape through a thick window frame rounded with a curve of black rubber opaque with urban grime others … More Metro
I miss brother, who I never knew well. To prolong the agony of life’s emotion, I plunge my bamboo skewer into the sponge of an unassuming frozen ball, Plucking it up from wax paper whose flat, cold lips suck back resistently. I reround the ball on his stick to help him regain his shape. His … More Cake Balls