Poetry

my little grandmother
knows no pain
she believes that
hunger—is food

[…]

That night I read The Revolt of the Masses not yet knowing
that at that same hour they
set houses on fire. They say,
an old woman tossed in flames trying

[…]

All I can do
to keep from believing
where, in truth, your last steps led,

There are those that in the distance seem a swarm of gnats
those that with their barking try to rally us in a campaign against the stars
those that torment their prey