Poet Laundry

    When, not if, the trail leads me to face the rocky Baboquivari looming with the threat of jaguars and rattlesnakes,   at least...

Compassion’s earache sits on the tattered couch worn thin by visitors who came to get and seldom returned to give. Compassi...

I held you in my hands, cupped you to my face, drenched myself in your flood, and hid tears in your presence                     ...