“The primitive-looking coelacanth (pronounced SEEL-uh-kanth) was thought to have gone extinct with the…
while the sun shines its monster soaksit up. its monster is not a person. itsmonsteris not curse.it is easier to say what is not than…
glide to me on this cool nightinto my warm armsyour face is a rosethe petals your lipsyour slender frame the stemi’ll…
do you, too, havean army of unfinished idolsrhyme, wonders, heat and
it might be easier to begin with nightfallthe full day of story, told backwardsdollars and energy un-spending, skies and cells…
your open hands make me blushi am a flaw in the making, generosity swirlsinside a language that has always escaped me:
A man sitsbeside a dry creekin an unmoving desertwith a fishing pole.