Tossed up like a handful of confetti, she, red tail, is elbowed off like a bride to the wild, but she reels and staggers,
Where I recite the names of the dead in my family before praying the rosary in sotto voce. The dead are thorns stuck in
More than 500,000 Dead, February 21, 2021 Today, this newsprint is smiting daggers of names and faces—The copy mining them like old daguerreotypes
We are protagonists stuck in a Greek tragedy wherein the chorus knows more than we do yet refuses to share their insights or advice