Poetry

For Andrew 1. Say that there’s nothing left to plotAnd everything has sprawled itself a horizon on a map,From this time to this place, to…

The city only heals if it rains.Calm, still, quiet: an afterthought.Lights will illuminate the battered skins of roads, pedestrian stripeslosing its mundaneness, prayingfor the last…

After Jim Morrison Children are born navigators.The have crossed torrid wetlands,Slept in tombs full of water,Made love with the darkBefore they open eyes and seeThe…

I. Myth In the beginning was the seaand there was nothing to contain it. How the spirit soars with each crestslough crest and cowers with…

I wake up from my seat to a suddenblue blasting from the window.The sky looks certain as azure,if not for its scant escort of cloudsand…