We stepped beyond the museum,a sinking cabin with weeds webbing between the splintered logs,as though they had every right to exist;an iron pump rusting beside a butter churn,a pushpin thrust into the spongy ground.This was once someone’s home. Stones snapping beneath...
Most of the houses have beendug out from the ash, but the shapeof the mountain will neverbe the same in this lifetime: a jagged mouthwhere the peak blew off. The optical illusionis that the mountains never get closer or fartheruntil suddenly they rise up, icy...
Photo: VIAVAL TOURS / Shutterstock.com Mayor Buddy Dyer welcomes meback to the City Beautiful, the city magical, mythical, the fantasy land, town of scientific marvels& facade; but the gateway to thehappiest place on Earth still feels like high school suicide to...
There are things bigger than me. Like husking the coconutto sip its water,hacking the shell, and scraping the meatinto strands before the third moon sets. Perhaps your oracle eye fishesin the shallows for the glimmer of a treasurechest in the waters off this Palawan...
The world is woven in a hazethinner than white,cloaking this bay of people who have finally learned to wait.An idol, eternally squatting, staresout the window of a divine sorrow. The instance between fog and rain dangles on the tip of my tongue. Such precipitation is...
You ain’t shit North Dakota – you’re all snow and flat and forever horizon. You fly-over state. You MAGA hat, Fox News junkie.The year I left it snowed on June 1st. June 1st you motherfucker.Can’t bury the dead in a North Dakota winter unless you bonfire first.My 18th...
