Poetry

The Woman and the Branch

  I knew. I knew. My mother gave me her bluebird of happiness. Carrying the…

Lock Butter

  I be a tender root a mere indecisive tangle that has been smashed and…

Volver, Volver

  y volver, volver to the mouth of the Yucatán where we first glistened with…

What Lies Beneath

  Today I am elbow deep in some animal’s belly pulling out the heart and…

After Hurricane Sandy

  We climb toward the rumored grave of an Native American healer, the earth a…

i watch papa bury our dog in a grave the size of a pond

  mauve, sprigs of oleander— ceilings shedding water stains in shapes of crooked eyes—my jaws…

derrame

  They call it the shoreline, el abismo que tiene poder too wide to hear…

On Eschatological Radio Angels Flying in the Troposphere

Millennial engineers of faltering air, not eschatological radio angels tighten struts, bolts, and cantilevers of…

Three Poems

  I never met Bill Cosby but I met Beverly Johnson at Magic Mountain with…

the world we choose, the world we love

  for Nicole Kaltz Pears ripen. The turtle crosses a walking path to her nesting…