If I could give to you your father whole, but I can not give to you your father whole, he would be free of the demons that made him eat…

I imagine you would take us with you, perhaps rolled up in a Persian rug or tucked in hidden pockets of your luggage carrying white shirts, socks, and underwear. There…

Thanks to the local bradas, playing uke Friday night, anybody’s backyard, Pauoa valley. The clink of their green bottles drifting up to moths dancing in the porch light guiding my…

images like a Frida Kahlo painting; a woman falling from a New York city skyscraper bloodied with eyes wide open, images of brutality in a Dominican Republic cane field against…

(on viewing Choris' portrait of Kamehameha I ) It was morning when I first saw you on a slim side wall where someone might absentmindedly flip a light switch. Not…

What to give you? The black bird or the perfect arc it made while flying upward over green cypress reminding me of Roman coliseums and grander things than this three…

Father Sky looked down on all the beauty of Mother Earth the hills, the valleys, then clasped her tightly. So close was the embrace, their children the winds, the forests,…