he:kon! Skennen'kowa! Greetings from the sunny desert of northern New Mexico! Spring is in the air. The first green shoots are appearing at the base of the yarrow and sage, yet still sometimes the sky blackens, the winds pick up and the air is full of hail, lightning and tumbleweeds. And poetry is in the air... click here for more...

Cover image by Ernest Paniccioli from his book They Call It Graffiti
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This drive along the road the bend the banks behind the wheel I am called Mommy. My name is Mommy on these drives the sand and brush the end of winter we pass... click here for more...

            that I would write to you that I would sea walls in stone and mortar and black bars that I would in your tradition Akka wave wave each one in count to sin or that we do not sin not as before... click here for more...

v.
- to lose, to suffer loss, to be gone, lost

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I sensed the knife in your past,
its sharp edge shanked from the canyon stream-
a silver trickle between the book jacket,
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The song spilling seeds into your mouth
sunflowers a yield sign
crawls onto the roof pinching corn meal,
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Nazbas

It came whispering in broken English
a stutter
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I don’t know where
or when this is, so like
that night somewhere
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way back when in fact might be true another day

front of nose right there women muddle over story

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