When I asked Robert Wynne to join me as co-editor of a new poetry anthology, his immediate response was When do we start? Only
In the airport bar, I tell my mother not to worry. No one ever tripped and fell into the San Andreas Fault. But as
I. Letter To David From Guanajuato Explaining Why I Can’t Come Back To Iowa The hand of this ciudad burns with fever. I clamp
So much leans upon a tight gatepost latch as she smiles over his bare shoulder toward the haystack. Originally published in Cider Press