Reading Hass
I spend all day on Google Maps picking out houses with porches and old trees in the front yard. On some online road in California I play how old…
What a Son Owes His Father
is left unsaid though his features speak it and the color of his voice, his choices. He carries his father unsteadily, as once his father hoisted him high onto…
God’s Dollhouse
Spring is not everything, but it seems to be the answer. God is here, stretching her green knuckles to set the heart aflame. That other spring, when I turned…
The growth of time
As a kid I’d lean against the right wall of my room and with a pencil draw a horizontal line that revealed my height alongside the passage of time:…
Architecture Tour
—after Sylvia Plath* here what you see is the intent to express the frame once concealed with ornament once unimaginable here flowers made as if cut by machine, as…
The Burden of Translation
My mother carried an old man on her back after she fled Vietnam. He was small and shriveled, like a mummy, limbs broken and reassembled into a folded child.…
A Tree Fell on the House During Plague-Time
Everyone said it was the largest tree they had ever seen on a street in New York. Some said anywhere. The city sent a small crane, then its bigger…
As sons stand in line
stopping with their chimera cameras departed currencies they want to see where the Bedouin coin necklaces are thread where the Druze cross-stitch their dinner mats devourer of spiders but…
40 El alacrán
If you knew anything about deserts, you knew there were scorpions. So when one appeared in your yard, standing where the crosshatched patches of grass met the beginning of…
