Photograph of a Prison Journalist
Even in photographs our eyes danced
An Incarcerated Mail Order Bride
You’re famous, in your world, maybe I am–taboo, listening to your favorite songs refer to me as boo, no need to stress I’m discrete too, don’t want my business out... Read More
Queen Restored
I saw Queen Hephzibah in the wilderness the other day. I was a little befuddled because I thought she had lost her way. “Queen where ever is your crown,” I... Read More
Volcanic Vigils
My father went whole and alone before / I carried the parts of my mother
ekphrastic under a bombed-out sky
I can’t abide happy art, not when the air hanging over my people is smoke-dusted, bomb-clouded, gray with phosphorus & miasmic with rot.
A Funeral Within My Soul
Think of how I dodged death before,/ but death is a persistent player/ never losing in hide-and-seek.