We sat snug by the table with the hovering leg,  Placed a hand to milky carbon copies, Grasping each other’s breath with curved, inky incisions, 

周 – shū – circumference 音 – oto – sound 周音 – amane – global sound  ママちゃま – mamachama – my cute mom that I

words slip into our subconscious, never to be conjured up again. palabras que nos cambian para siempre. english, spanish, everything in between. our inner dialogue,

As I walk, my footprints trail behind me, each imprint radiating a soft glow. The embers hang low, suspended in the air, leaving a serpentine

“You have a lot of futterneid,” my mom said to me one day. A German word which literally translates to “food jealousy.” It’s true, I’ll

1. I wish I never met you.  The kids on TV have a different life in America—more independent, so unlike the life I am used

I used to sit with you on the carpet floor, cross-legged, with mugs of tea so large they tasted like water. I would teach you

The autumn sky is a deep black bruise and I drown in its ache.  What a strange feeling—  for someone who loves words,  I can’t

blood moon, i. who slept among the stars until he got sick of playing coy and came crashing down to earth. in effect, a genesis

Is it love To take a bullet for someone To stand in front of metal And let it sink into flesh Life into death As

While the bears and the squirrels and hopefully the poets of the world retreat into our dens for the winter, the voles tunnel winding paths

When I was a child, my grandmother told me where words go at night. All the letters gather together, she said. They crawl off of