POETRY: Breakfast at Savta’s

There was a time / I loved to watch your hands / setting in against the stubborn pan.

A Hunter’s Eulogy for Coyote

He invited us/the hunting dog and me/into the parlor. The old dog/streaked with grey like Coyote/cracked stale tea cookie/against his molars/Crumbs littered a fray-edged rug while/Coyote brewed peppermint tea.


Yesterday, I found a dead sparrow with/no legs, stump body left on Whitney street.

The Real Thing

"Look, though, you can play this quiet kit! / Crush these pedals like thirsty leaves beneath you / or tease them apart like the hairs of a handsome boy."

POETRY: Crickets

for Aaron   Did some Googling: The crickets we hate are two hundred million years older than we are  and they invented music By “we” […]

POETRY: Erica Road

I wake up unwashed  with two rubber bands on my wrist,  extras for you in case  yours break and you go back to  picking away […]

POETRY: To the Preacher

Your own past drowns in Bible passages and screams out sin in front of a crowd  To wrap wounds of generational trauma and ask forgiveness.  […]

POETRY: Sonnet (Exegesis)

A critic at The New York Times, referencing another critic, has dubbed this era A “no-context context.” It’s because of “semiotics” and Lil Nas X […]

POETRY: Afong Moy Teaches Provenance

After Sally Wen Mao’s ‘The Diary of Afong Moy’   when the poacher knocks on my door, arms              crossed […]

POETRY: Palm Sunday

The choir renders hosannas of seashores and crashing surf, hoping the Ocean will talk back. Fishers of men throw nets over the worshipers’ heads, try […]

POETRY: Orange Baby

It started like this: during my first visit the doctor ordered a test and told me there’s not enough iron in my blood. It’s hereditary, […]