Not big on pilgrimages, yet this fever drifts from house to house. One leaky pirogue, adrift, empty, listing to one side, on the bayou. I look inside my neighbor’s yellow house—joy ...

13 April, 2023

Always with this smashing, muddy river. And my child vexed. The white sky her screams crested. The white coats rounding the kid wing. Where histories were charted, looks gauged. Under my touch. Scrolled symptoms and elevators. Chimes....

09 April, 2023

My mother calls to say she isn’t dead but choked on a cheap kebab. You say you’re a writer. What’s so tough it won’t go down? ...

05 April, 2023

My daughter molds a gun from bread. Why do gods make us eat? Witness divine stovetop resurrection of yesterday’s sides! I scrape my plate. August, so long, sweat ...

01 April, 2023