I’m exiled in a countrybetween two great waterswhere tornados churn housesinto toothpicks, a mall that used to grow corn. Lunch-time I serve french fries a uniform disguisewith few requirementsnodding yes or no until I disappear
Hard to believethey’re closing the doors againthe whole right to life thing. No man knows how to create a home from dreams, prayers, yearningthe magic stuff of umbilical fluid not the
Crossing the Bay Bridge todayI saw an Armenian Genocide bannera public service stretched across the top-knot of Treasure Island yet another grouphunted down by history a convenience story for everything gone
We stood around the mailbox discussing the noise coming from behind the wall of our bathrooms. I was just back from grocery shopping. Arven, my next-door neighbor said, “That’s what you get
For weeks I saw cardboard boxes stacked outside the landing my neighborsdismantled eight years of living everything taped and labeleda two-bedroom bought on foreclosure paid off in overtime. We agree.
Children’s book for middle-grade readers, ages 9-12, an urban environmental fantasy set at the edge of a condo development where we meet 10-year-old Leah who has been labeled as the