for Louis burrito by starlight, red and green Cholulain the beard. Stuffed to our socks, let us dub this the first formal ritual to the pagangods of guac and fries, carne asada, jalapeño hit the…
Browsing Category Poetry
“Plume” and “Silence is the Blower of the Glass”
Plume I lost the feather I found that day, off-trail and alone in winter woods, when, for the first time since her…
“among the taxidermy mountain goats…” and Two Others
among the taxidermy mountain goats in the museum of natural history the little girl dreamsof a shipwreck; she sways on the bow when the wavecapsizes her & aloneshe sinks her wool coat,pockets full of starlings…
It Was Not the Double Shifts
hanging from the Pit River bridge; he liked heights. It was not the hours huddled over drinks at the nearest bar. Nor was it the asbestos blankets that shrouded his lungs. And yet, his grin…