Remember Goliad

The wind is subtle. I imagine her whisper as I stand alone in Goliad Plaza. I remember the press of her hand against my chest after we danced. We trusted each other a little more each second as people watched her spin again and again to a Tejano song whose name I wish I knew,... Continue Reading →

Sutherland Springs, 2017

An American steps into Church with a gunBullet meets bone blood flowsfirecrackers heard down a country roadRed, White, and Blue lights sirens, Stars and StripesOh, say can you see? America the Beautiful America the Ugly Read More in Poetry

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