The glass dome in the garden shattered The way my heart shattered when you left   The garden where in the days gone by Saw two hearts find love in each other   The love which drew into a simmer And went cold in the…

She hails from holy order time forgot Sworn to uphold code with honor wrought With sorcerous song to heal sad and sickly And send wicked to caves of ice thickly Warrior monks fighting for futile balance In a musical world doomed to silence So heroes…

How It Starts It starts by dimming the lights, breathing picks up pace, his body holds me tight, while hands caress my face.   Breathing picks up pace. Sweat trickles my brow, while hands caress my face. Silence, except the cat’s meow.   Sweat trickles…

This time capsule in my mind’s tomb I step inside my past, and loom grounded by olive patchwork floor always slightly off-kilter door memories of my girlhood room Do glow-in-the-dark stars illume the ceiling still? Can I presume a child pretends there once more this…

NOT MINE I felt your hands once, but not as a friend or lover. I felt your body pressed against mine, in a game of moves and counter moves. Silently, secretly… I wanted you to stay there forever. To embrace you, to feel the warmth…

My homeland is a blessed land A land of hills, and sand The rivers and plains are good Among the dark, and rich wood My country swings between weathers Summer’s fruits and Winter’s feathers A colorful spring and leafy autumn Diving in the upper sea…

I remember the wind in my hair riding my Schwinn down the hill to the Lake…. Summer, so long on fun so carefree and abundant. Our easement had a lock and rack full of canoes (one of them Mine!) and a dock with a slide…

HOUR FIVE In my yesteryears memories, I see my ancestral home- an adjunct to my life a home painted with not just colors- but celebrations of life I peeked into the rasoi, a roshandaan- a quaint window with molds and webs greeted nostalgia and paper…

Its head resting on the crest, the lion still guards the Confederate soldiers buried in the aftermath of Civil War. Not a gargoyle spouting water, not an angel of compassion, not a soldier of upright honor: The protector of the Confederate Dead oversees those who…

There was a Mexican grocery store called Mi Rancho Near the city jail Buttressed by bail bondsmen and cut-rate law offices A sweet spot for viciousness This was downtown Oakland, CA in the seventies Rough and raw and flush with low expectations No gentrification to…