If my mother had not been an alcoholic, I might not have been a poet.
So she wouldn’t judge, she practiced empathy, sitting for months in full lotus, palms open, thumb and forefinger touching to make a small circle she could empty her thoughts inside … Continue reading
That was the year that summer lingered and fall came on late. I was still wearing sleeveless clothes when the temperatures fell, and the wind rose suddenly, and tore the … Continue reading
Several of the young men from the treatment center are already dead. They spanned the demographic spectrum so no conclusions can be made about why they did, or didn’t, make it. … Continue reading
i You can boil yourself down to the rudiments, all the way to the very bottom, and sit there pruning yourself to the compact form of a bouillon cube, its … Continue reading
For a long time, each day was a bad day. Truthfully? For years, each day was a bad day. The nights were worse, but she could slide The deadbolt … Continue reading
Whether it’s true or not, that all our molecules replace themselves each seven years, his body seems halfway new again, one year into sobriety. I keep my distance now but … Continue reading
She wasn’t watching when they cut him Out. C-section, you know. Green drape Obscuring the mound of ripened belly They extracted him from. He spilled Out squalling, already starving. Still … Continue reading