to mukethe come listen to the wind with me. those gulf storms are still blowing residual gusts east, only so much that it’s a nightlong pleasant rattle on the bedroom’s flimsy windows; not enough to…
Browsing Category Poetry
For the Blood of Me
The month wanes. Soon my mother will make sure I swallow three shredded dates daily, for the blood of me. I say: no can’t you see it’s a chore to dig them out, tongue on…
Strange Features
I’m the type to go unseen in the world. I’m the milk of women. —Ellen Welcker Once while boarding a train Marilyn Monroe turned to a friend and said Do you want to see me…
Indexing the Life and Death Experience of Homelessness
Image: Scott Web, Public Domain CC0 Image
Two Mice of Ivory and Other Poems
Two Mice of Ivory The year my father set adrift, the levee burst, my family’s belongings blew out all the windows and doors— making clear who held the foundation, close-fisted and sturdy— and nobody cared…