Three Poems

Three Poems

  When the Thief Appears   jerky and twitched-out two feet from my bed I want to be the woman who throws off the quilt, leaps to my feet, yells What the fuck? startles him into a freeze and this intruder gets what’s his. We’ll both learn what rage looks like...
A Poem

A Poem

    Poet Wrestling with        d e a t h_____ t o u c h   They say: murderous resting face. & I say. Everyone is a coward. In a ring of fire. There are only fists. & liars. I sweep a leg. Bloodsport is...
The Knock-Knock Bardo & The Beyond

The Knock-Knock Bardo & The Beyond

  While I travel the world’s geography, history, and virtual present, in mind and poetry— a September reality knocks, constant as a wound-up alarm clock, startling me from work, leisure, and sleep equally, as if to remind me of the world my body lives in,...
June Pruning

June Pruning

  My husband stands under the lilac, clippers in hand, squints up at bare twigs among the heavy, spent blossoms. He parts the heart-shaped leaves with his blade before he nips the dry wood. Surely, it’s the wrong season to be pruning, just as the pendulous...