Letter to E. from Tumacácori Mission
Dear E., When their vespers finally cease,I dream of fingerless men fingeringtheir other hands, itching for prayer beads.Only rosaries strung from stones last.Plastic... Read more.
Last Girl in Leadville
Boomtown fantasies are nothing but screams.Pitches too high for human ears. Mountainstoo high for their own good. Rocks keening.Stones shrieking. Dust and finality... Read more.
Gallows
Cape Mendocino sunset. Which forgotten goddess taught the sky to die so well?I fled westward, always westward. Old myths and older magistrates compelled. Born in... Read more.