Stories
iPoems
The willows crack as the startled deer flee into a deeper darkness.
iPoems
Oklahoma, a state shaped like a pot, probably some gruel inside.
iPoems
Our fathers sit in their gear looking as mean as we knew them to be.
iPoems
The shadow carves the hours while the Latin inscribes
iPoems
sunrise reminds the shama to emerge from her perch in the pandanus tree
iPoems
No, you may not walk there. No, you may not stand on that. He is not here.
iPoems
Three lives I flicked alight with a few match scrapes. I cupped them.
iPoems
Afterward, it was nature that was blind, and she who was wild.
iPoems
Draw me a map of your agonies, all the missing rivers you dried.
iPoems
To fulminate, to go on a tear, because what’s wanted is forbidden.
iPoems
Those under us are not dead. They are dancers. We are the music.
iPoems
Sixty-year-old veins look like giant roots breaking through earth’s skin.
iPoems
The girls got drunk, danced to Russian karaoke under disco-light glitz.
iPoems
You have your apron on under your coat. We’ve got each other.
iPoems
I read an article and learn that the gloomy octopus has three hearts.
