My grandmother’s grinding stone / El molcajete de mi abuelita
Surviving is made of the shadows of the grinding stone.
The invisible woman
‘You said it was for the best if my soul remained hidden. . . . I believed you for a time.’
Your stories belong to you
no one can rename you
Other, it can’t stick, as you offer the gift
of being and saying who you are.
imagine your / body out- / living your / mind.
Light of trees
shadows of clouds / hurrying to some reunion
Show me your channels of hope.
dear earth, / teach us to stand / like trees
Are you to serve / a bigger purpose with your resistance?
Late thoughts on the existence of God
A crack on the face of the sphere / Begat innumerable tributaries.
Poem: Benediction for the heavy heart
Breathe. For yourself. For each other.
Poem: I mourn for Walter Scott
‘a man much like myself’
By ‘Amazing Grace’
lately I find / more of myself in other poets’ poems than in a mirror