What a brittle girl you’ve been, what a buzzkill ( Read more... )

The woke weirdos at the crazy mocha and the old man talking dinosaurs

And you are growing old and missing everything,

The light in the cells of the rhodedendrons

The walk of white tailed deer and the coal trucks kissing at the dawn

the cats are dreaming in my roomates ( Read more... )

and here you find yourself ( Read more... )

the honeyscukle scorches ( Read more... )

Jack rabbits clatter through whorls of thistle and mequite and prickly pear in the red dirt bending behind us. The mountains scrawl a long story across the pink horizon of the Sonoran desert in Southern Arizona, each one tough and particular, him a saw tooth, her a pair of heavy breasts, him a hitching thumb. The migrants who come through this ( Read more... )

what I once thought of walking ( Read more... )

Paris is burning ( Read more... )

Where is it safe ( Read more... )

We play billie holiday at the abortion clinic. Billie Holliday & Hot 98.7, the best hip-hop you can get in the chemical valley. The music drowns out the protestors prayer-screams; even the clouds dance, the pavement gyrates. It is the first day of spring and the daffodils stand straight as children anxious to be older. We are clinic escorts in west ( Read more... )