Somewhere along this coast your body moves as it once did, beside mine, in sleep. Your shores are doubly as frigid and thrash toward jagged
The canal began unwinding in 1905, wood flume twelve feet wide. I’d like to rename you, a more rarefied name worthy of your rills
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a body jerked up in the air by three black vultures, it landed in spasmodic
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