[tabby title="Poem"] I am a convert to the religion of the tortured torso.My cell is your chest; its heave, hues & heavinessthe triplet heavens I beckon for eternal residence.My hymn book: your voice on dusky autumn days. I reel you...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] I watch my past spin and spin, sickenedby my body’s blunt refusal to lunge at it. I lack the enthusiasm required to grabwhat is mine and admit that it is mine. Who, when meeting again what has...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] He wanted someone to live with:an accomplice, a co-conspirator. I was there, too single and sinfulto resist. What was one more, tomy litany of trespasses? Surely I could add to my tally, then tellthe tale posthumously if...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] I acknowledge that I am no martyrI falter through the Our FatherI remember clearly the cracked cadaverI dissected. The man had a name once. Then, only a tag on his foot—barcoded property of the institution I acknowledge...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] I wish you were here to share: how you brawled with deathwhile she counted her coins,casually throwing glancesyour way as her tally rose. how you evacuated yourselfwhen you were the housedraped in crime scene tape;lady of the...