The cloudless sky/ amplifies the incompletion,/ clarifies the imperfections/ of the night’s normalcy-

In the black not dead of night, she gathers them; slowly,diligently placing the cansand bottles into two large plasticbags strung across a long piece of wood; this is her money work. She is small, but her bodyhas the choreography down:sift, search, lift,…

Cockroaches in bed was the last straw. Alicia was sure she’d swallowed one in the middle of the night . . .

I still see Big Mama leaning over her garden to pick a zinnia to put in her still life. Her old pink slip, hanging diagonally a foot under her hiked up, ragged, stained dress, half covered by her paint smock, which matched her white, faux fur, bedroom sli

When the poet loves,/ I said, quoting the poet,/ he loves himself.

"Jesus was a zombie?" I ask, shocked.

I could reach out and grab this world by the p...

Eons later, Bobo evolves into Shakespeare. Bonus feature: wings.

the worm was stabbed where two rivers branch:/who would slay was slain.

Maybe tomorrow someone dreams And maybe someone moans But beware the steam inside the dome It’s just dreams that sorrow owns If it resonates, say so Ho in a raccoon coat Slow bum ahead If it resonates, say so, say so And her man, yo

No, your clever costume won’t protect you.

Always in a hurry/to spoil your/weekend

In a time of drought,/ the sound of rain is sweet/ and joyful music.

Stupidity is not a mask; it is the face / and it is the face that betrays us / always.

Mayumi approached them; her memories of their faces from the texts they received from each other had come alive.