Poetry
Nov/Dec 2019
Messages from Medellín
I recorded the noise on my phone so that you can hear it when I get home. It seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere, as if the papered […]
Poetry
Mar/Apr 2017
Cruel
A poem addressed to David McCooey This time it is you, swaddled in bandages and sheets, your mouth discreetly crossed with tape where a corrugated hose runs deep, feeding you […]