No way was she going to miss it this time! For five years, she had been so close to going to the fair, but

On the muddy green Illinois River my mind/ sinks down while a water bottle bobs up.// My anxious heart

-Yesterday-// We found it in the garage,/ on a grease-stained shelf,/ tap-tap-tapped it into place,/ raised

It seems like we are laughing one minute/ then I look up & see that her eyes look bruised/ though I can’t

Stay, continue/ Weary or smart/ Change pocket/ Lint for Art/ Smudged faces/ For clarity/ In the wishing

Uncertainty rules/ like never before,/ the new normal/ is the abnormal,/ the unheard-of state/ of affairs is

The tune touched/ every cell of my body,/ flowed through my veins;/ a song I played/ amid my sleepless

At a time when wanderlust/ Has taken over every one/ There are the few who/ Do not, can not, will not

Walking into his house is like walking into a graveyard. It’s as if everything has been preserved in time, a burial

The well looks simple enough, stones stacked/ in an oblong, imperfect circle with only/ mud turned dirt and

A lone mourner stands at the end of a pier./ He opens a care worn envelope – strands of dark hair whip

Children played “I spy with my little eye”/ but none saw the train punch the bus.// Side panels punctured

I don't sew, but I have visions, the woman said,/ on her way to a sewing circle, in her small town.// I saw

A dumber bird never crashed/ into clear glass, my heart,/ long shed of feathers, a dead/ thing’s milk,

Running through thick chaparral/ the Coyote/ weatherbeaten smuggler/ of human cargo/ abandons

My finger banged on the tiny doorbell. I paced back and forth trying not to fall off the tiny step. Finally,

Near the seaport of Gouvia there is a small beach from which one can see the profile of the island

Walking in a dark and/ dense forest, I reached/ a sunlit spot and tiny creek/ was running there and/ a

They say the final moments before one dies, the brain replays important scenes that occurred in their lifetime

Every night I ask my dreams/ to where we shall journey this eve/ & Spiritual selves/ gather around, hands