[tabby title="Poet Bio"] At the vale of evening if we wait for headlights at ha–Phokoaneyou can see coins flick the moonlight in the hands of children running across the street at night.The men here as brave as a hoard of...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] After the peace and after the war he was all that was left of the townthe remaining outline of a map to a place that never existed.They were burning into statues from across the street,hiding into their...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Coming back to claim this forgotten landas a three-headed chimera brushing itsmare against the shore. Waking back toa morning of promises, flowers, seedbedsand a black screen, a matrix of scents;waking beside deep braided hair, coffee,secret messages under...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] The difference between a mountain and a ridge is in the way our bodies can sometimes press at night, the loneliness of the Caprivistretched in front of us like a sterile thumb. When we ran out of...

[tabby title="Poet Bio"] Those possessed with the body of a god – unchartedhad a slight clearing in the common townbrushing nonunion elbows against the novelistic cultureas only servants or visitors of a sacred place.We passed outdoor restaurants with smoothly cut...