New Orleans is a bouquet of pixilated memories. A caravan of embers that refuse to turn to ash. I have tried to write these poems before, you know, th…
When people say, “we have made it through worse before” all I hear is the wind slapping against the gravestonesof those who did not make it, those who…
The redwoods are on fire in California. A flood submerges a neighborhood that sat quiet on the coast for three centuries. A child takes their first st…
A Reading from the Book of Exile By Padraig O Tuama chapter one there are no chapters chapter two he has been moved beyond belief chapter three and he…
On my dad’s 76th birthday,I spend an easy day with my son,Watching him play on the ground,Rolling a car back and forth.From my position on the couch,M…
Go to your broken heart.If you think you don't have one, get one.To get one, be sincere.Learn sincerity of intent by letting life enter, because you'r…
I’m your guide here. In the evening-dark morning streets, I point and name. Look, the sycamores, their mottled, paint-by-number bark. Look, the leaves…
