Rolling papers
I rolled my mom some joints from the onion skin of a fat volume of Shakespeare. “This is gonna make […]
poetry
Two bodies [in an urban jungle]
Hard earth under concrete, greeting my feet with every step. Around me a symphony of faces– then you, in the
Air
Smoke from a recent candle lit, extinguished by the breath of it, sweeping over the desert landscape of the room.
Early morningĀ
The sun rises on a virgin morning, spilling onto the hard ground burning like your gaze in an instant all
Retreat
when the screaming began I went inside myself and vowed I’d never come out. I went so deep the beating