It was not the remains of the men that  died in the Alamo, the lit candles,  the likeness of Pope John Paul, or the warmth

Winds of summer sing A cyclone, unending fear Meets the trees with me.   The cliff that calls me I dare defy, the sound That

Summer nights, ring of fire Staunchly build my arresting ire Give an inch, take a mile Breathe me, all that I defile   My pain

License Check Phone Check Seatbelt Buckled Check Hands need to tend to Ten and Two I tend to forget    sideview mirrors        

Existence,              Like the lulling ocean  Waves that  Glimmer as they slide across              The

It’s spring 1996, and it’s you and me. Lifeblood of the city, the Metro around us, in our ears, our bones, electric heat burns the

A turquoise Spanish sky and a fortaleza,  leaning in ruin, ever guarding the sea.  No enemy to be seen but time. Sixteen and beautiful, the

Without knowing who you’re fucking with,  the distance between fear and love  finds you laying in a crucified position;  or that’s what it felt like

Off in the distance, someone leaps over blue thimble globes & thistles, just clears grape hyacinths’ beaded flowers, smacks full into delphinium spears.  Later she

  On quiet spring twilights—no sun or wind or rain— you can sit on the grassy shore inches from the sandy edges of water with