[tabby title="Poem"] My love,a spirit bled through your mother's nameand kissed your lips—not to claim,but to apologizein the shape of warmth. You asked,Would they stay? But how can night hold fireif he is the reasondawn keeps returning? Each evening he...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Of course, I recall the decanted pour,the skewering aromas, the sanguinetinge. I miss it in ways, like alleyways ona hand-drawn map of a hometown thatyou can’t return. Please don’t make a thing of it, mydeclining of promising...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] While in wait,under orange treesbluebirds flew above me they had made small nestswith twig and branch they had sung melodies by the seaand where I sat upon the shore and as the moon rose,I could see their...