We need a foreign country to set us free, Even one so poor, where no one cares.
A Bishop in Love
Deadly Vigil
Going to mass should be dangerous—
Postmortem of a Fish – Editor’s Pick
I saw god at the dentist’s, splattered on the chair– a discarded fish head. Jaw forced open, eyes closed shut.
bear market; turnsole; small gust (the butterfly effect); astronautilus (expansion); spit or swallow
no connection left
Palate Poems
I didn’t know how to tell you I hated you, Never was I good with words, it’s true. So I made a cake.
Travel Poems
The gift shop near the room where the family of a dead son gathers offers crosses, prayer books, icons, beads and jar upon jar of dried herbs and flowers gathered by the monks from slopes that surround, petals of the past as brittle as the remnants of faith forged in ancient hillsides.