[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Many seek the answer to problems of the world,And none of them know it is the snake in the question,Especially when one finds it curled, its head in the sun,The rest of its body out, on a...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] In my palm sits my father’s waslap*,as I knew it would one dayeach time I saw him scrub himselfwith it in the zinc tub beside our hut,darkening the water with his mood.I wash myself with that waslap,wishing...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] we met on ivory steps in jittery morning airyou traced rows of empty tables under pale domeswhile he looked over his shoulder, nothing could resist his melodyand your mind was clean just this once. that day, someone...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Flowers are not for the living, at least not their entire blossom;a bunch of bloodshot or milky or inky petals in a fond hand,for example lilies or other flowers that prefer to grow on surfacesof ponds in...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] The forgotten ones are with us in these woodlands: a crunchunderfoot, the time it takes memory to go back in historyand return with its hands full... the names of all the cowskilled at funerals, the sound of...