The sometimes shiver that arrives from awkward silences and the more often cold that comes from midwestern winters.

III. Through wheelwind crypts of mystery, through…

at the front of the bus/ sways a white-veiled woman:/ gnarled hands upon/ a bag of palms,

See the hair Know the hair Remove the hair

far beyond the far beyond sparkles the stars like sparkles

—Hey, lover man, where’s my breakfast? said Monique, tousling Ben’s hair.

I was a coward and didn’t want to get killed like Heimley. Heimley was a nut at high school. I saw him myself one night put his hand right through the windshield of this car he was working on, along with a monkey wrench. Sure, he was drunk, but th

with peaty aromatics, opened,/ and a welcomed sting, swallowed,

She said it feels wrong. Too wet, she said. I snickered, she smacked.

how much is downed/ to counteract the down/ with deeper down.

The man was sitting at his makeshift kitchen table. He was forty-five years old. He wore his mortarboard with tassel whenever he left his home. Once inside either a reputable establishment or one generally considered less so, he was sure to take off his m

These are not the caffeinated men of barbaric lore.

Between the commercials, the local news is rampant with fusillade of bullets going raving mad, driven by some Machiavellian brainfuck, or bombshells smiling down with angels in black; emoticons of solid metal and pride. But you would put your faith in…

We do not all love each other for the sake of our shared art, apparently.

So what happensTo the VFWIn a global economyAnd the monumentsErected in reverenceAfter the boysWho became menCame back homeTo be fathersThen grandfathersGreat-grandfathersAnd start to fall awayAs the days creep byThat petty paceOf politics as usualFamily DiasporasAnd maybe…