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Their Final Words
Unable to quit to save herself,
five mouths to feed, all minors,
her husband, undocumented,
deported months ago, she still
woke up early to catch the bus and...
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
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Pilot Knob Breakfast
Rattling across a rocky trail just after sunrise
having hiked up and down Pilot Knob
950 feet elevation
one mile
straight up
my temple
to you
gone three years
and the dog...
