DEAR LONELINESS You are the cold hand on the back of my neck the pulsing breath chained to my heart on days when the world grinds on my...

HIGH CHAIR We are drooling love-eaters Love lands on our trays in bite-sized chunks Some of it stringy and fibrous and other chunks sweet...

HONESTY IN CHAOS I. A dusty garden of radishes So hot they burned my tongue My dead father’s deader dreams Long gone—and yet, I...

SILENCE I know I’ve never listened as I did yesterday to anything like the compelling seduction of absolute silence while sitting in my...