Workshop Poetry

Don’t forget the market on Sunday, Don’t forget your Mama. Dotted lights spell coffee behind my eyes,  Blonde hair is braided, cutoff, and thrown away – Drowned in an awkward soda. Cover your mouth. Her eyes dart around the room suspicious of you, followed by a man in yellow… “You’re writing novels over there?” Of […]

Fists Full of Sand: Excerpts from and Officer’s Diary

Entry 10 From the primates of the human city angrily berating a man you could. His slaves but Jefferson didn’t. The reds and pinks of autumn or a large family and expectations. But intimacy poses hazards from Portland to Bend along with bits of the depths and hanging onto pink coral, to others. The great […]