Pulling air into a tight vortex
spins into a poem, readymade. I knew nothing of
how poems came to be, so willed them. Like
waterspouts, they twirled...
The Newborn
Barely 5 lbs 8 oz,
she sleeps before me
and snores through
her half-open mouth.
She clenches her
tiny palms.
Tight chest, fisted heart;
tight tight—
sweat trickles down
her cotton onesie.
She...
Candy Crane
My brother Joshua lost interest in Walmart's toy crane at eight, shortly after he gained enough hand-eye coordination to manipulate the metal claw....
Becoming Desire
Grandmother’s garden always lured:
blue-black tulips, glistening bruises,
unsubtle blurting poppies. Prone
as her peonies after rain, I lay waiting
to feel their exhalations
on my cheek. I...
