Author: admin

It is summer and the foothills
of LA burn. The ashes drift
as far as the ocean.

like ants on a work farm, villagers crawled through a narrow, dark, dank, dreary maze of tunnels.

the Holy Ghost woman spoke with tongues
that licked inside my tiny ears and
left them moist with noise

Hills brown from arsenic
in copper smelter town
but most spring times
land shouts with grass
loved by winter snow melt

When I was nine months full
with your baby sleeping
sound in the shelter
of my womb I was filled
with a lifetime of yearning

We rode the New York City subway cars alone
when we were fourteen.

You think I am lost
so you weep, blind to holy water
leaking from your swollen eyes

I collapse into him like
a wave breaks against
a house built too close to
the ocean

Gather around and hold hands
or don’t. I won’t care, really
but I hope you read the invitation

for homework
neighborhood kids
pulled out kitchen chairs
in the dirt front yard
of our duplex