I like it when my hair is wildand my feet are bare.I like the lines on my face that speak for me:“Been…
You have to be carefulwhen a poem twitches its ears.
Most days, it was obvious that #MeToo hadn’t reached the oil fields. Walking from the rig to her trailer, Locksley could shrug off the…
MorningFourteen vans crammed with middle schoolershead west to Gastonia, North Carolina.The air is…
If 2020were a poemit would havea lot of consonants.A hit of cognitive dissonance,a heavy arrhythmic halt.
21 February 2011
Dear NeNe,
Untroubled by meltSnowman with the sublime smile — Happy in the now.
“Tell me a story.”