is a revolution long in the planning, crocuses rising up despite the night’s last frost, their conviction enflaming the wide lawns green with reckless youth. Now, everywhere, we see the zip-gunned hummingbirds returning, the red splash … Read More
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so —Sonnet 54, Shakespeare Bees are dying in swarms and soon the flowers. What is a sonnet without a red red rose? What is a rose if sprayed another color … Read More
after the Islands of Chagos para mi Carlos Arturo After Tuvalu, did we really try hard enough? One, two degrees, chronicles of floods. Still around us are deniers full of gods and facades. A house of seashell … Read More
A blizzard wraps me in white shapes, white lies. Uprooted too soon, I seek omen in a bed of white earth. My mother once said, Go and find where and who you are. Go and search for rebels … Read More
By the time they plugged me in— electricity enlivening me the way God courses through the socket two bodies make— the man was already dead and did not know how tightly they held him to steady his head, so … Read More
I’m tethered since the man on the ridge, limited to the path between the backyards and the cemetery. This body is a rope that swings me over want’s abyss. I am weak, succulent, a magnet for … Read More
To keep them trapped, the doomed office workers’ heads are rigged to explode. It makes sense in that movie-logic way— bombs masquerading as trackers, some vague lie about company policy & for your own safety. The point is, … Read More
You must have thought I was a junkie. Syringes everywhere. Upturned biohazard box. My bed, thanks to you, a graveyard of blunted needles. This is the second time you’ve turned me over. I’ve stopped opening my blinds. I’ve … Read More
As we snake up through redwoods into the thickening gold haze, my brother the firefighter wonders how long to get a first responder out here, where the sheer gravel road shrinks at random to a single lane, and his … Read More
We go to Golden Gate Park to have a picnic. Find a patch that is empty, our clearing. Don’t realize until a ball almost bursts the bottle of Bulleit that we are in the middle of the golf course. … Read More
thunderstorms forming, kids out of school and off to camp, brand new ringtones loaded on phones. Another famous overdose, another fading star on trial, a governor-gone-wild all sexier stories than missiles on the move, protesters bleeding in streets of … Read More
after Edouard Manet A young woman with a cigarette—perhaps a prostitute! Or maybe she’s a “shopgirl hoping for company,” but either way, she’s not an upper-class lady, sitting there alone and ungloved. And next to her cigarette hand … Read More