Stories
iPoems
Passions played among the orchids and through cherish and reveal.
iPoems
Always I obliged the urban tree, any speechless unblessed nature.
iPoems
My brother, only his son by the way he fixes his tie, blind-fingered.
iPoems
In carved hearts—the artery, link that links but won’t spell it out.
iPoems
Frail as a breath, it broke at once, leaving a tiny kiss in my fingers.
iPoems
My father was neither kind nor strong in his bruising.
iPoems
Sitting on the edge, I leaned back and fell, wrist-deep, into the body of a deer.
iPoems
The light from dead stars only exists in the minds of the living.
iPoems
Chill air at six a.m., a bare hand scraping frost from a windowpane.
iPoems
I want to be rapt around your linger, not Thumbelina under your dumb.
iPoems
Her trust in me is a swirled marble sinking slowly in an aqua pool.
iPoems
I could untie Minnie’s silk, restitch it into places I’ve lived.
iPoems
Everything white is a white spider. The spider spins regardless of color.
iPoems
To get the job, always stay starched, creased to death.
iPoems
It’s raining concrete. I bite my grief wetly. Who will test these chains?
iPoems
A boat-tailed grackle counts the passing cars from the traffic light.
iPoems
May your wife remove her shirt and have an affair with a tornado.
