I wouldn’t mind being empty for a while. All of the people inside of me, even my loved ones, staying with friends across town.
The Creationists, Cancel Culture; Stories; The Influencer; The Teacher
We placed a tall drought on the San Joaquin. Monitored it closely with birds eyes collected. Black Raven beads. Hermit Thrush pebbles. Turkey Vulture marbles and the beryl gems of Red Tails.
Two poems: What Jacques Knew, Skipping Stones
But, perhaps, sight is more Than what Jacques knew. Up from orlop's shelf, A crawling back to an age Above the boards, Bearing back to Arden.
Short-Lived Hospitality; Anaho; Night Fauna; Nights of Raivavae; November, Four PM
A man washes his horse in the bay, showing muscle, though he never self-reflects as I do. I will not call out, he will not wave,
The Woman God of Appalachia; Albuquerque; Centre Street; Snowed In; 97.4 Percent White
The town I’m from has a history an excommunication of diversity at the helm of self-serving Caucasian propriety.
A Man of His Words; Walking Bayside; No Man Is an Island
Dissolving in another’s joy, Open to another’s hurt, reaching out…. yet he stays on ease of soil, Hard of head, tender of foot.