Just like our house in Saigon there is a table and a mirror by the front door. For a mirror facing the door would reflect all the good...

I wake with frosted breath under an unfamiliar armpit. A foot I think is mine pretzels with Mystery Mans replaying last night’s memories...

the transcendence commences as the hands of my heart pull me closer within, a mother clutching her newborn baby. her fingers fighting...

It was the middle of a cold winter. My big bay horse, Atlas, blew out a breath when he saw me, fogging the air around his nose. My gloved...

Icon that clashes with current image for the masses, a mass of love and flesh and wisdom and power clasped between fingers of true...

The path stretches on and on, never seeming to end. All in sight are trees and remnants of ruin in a present I no longer recognize. Piles...

wander to the high chasm to where you hear it floating to where the great river border moves where winter is washing the old forest’s...

Men don’t like an angry woman Women can be somewhat reflections of men And as women We must smile to reflect on the men that they’ve done...

today, a beautiful boy told me how he loves fruit. he smiles, as he describes to me how he digs his pearl shovels into its soft, pinkened...

When (it) first came to me I was tentative and I felt I would be shouted at for having pure but wreckless fun I was nervous at every man...

When I took the picture of my parents, I thought everything was fine. We were happy and we were a family. I guess I was wrong. A year...

She moved her fingers Along shadowed curvature, Feeling the hollow strength Of such a stem. Her repleteness beguiled me With strength She...