Poetry

Bruised Dreamers The city, I think Is like a scar Ra(z)ised from the supple earth of what was Or...

i talked to god on the edge of a cliff. at the canyon’s bottom was a beautiful river....

Back then, she hated the way the little girls clacked their dollar store sandals on the sidewalk...

The Lovers Red— Lips stumbling over each other like a newborn calf, eyes jumping like a flea...