I plunge my fists into the moist earth, branches of a fallen man, mildew green teeth gnawing at the impossibility of love, ancient child of rumination, cris-crossed star-gazers lost in the blush [...]
Pinched there between the priest’s fingers it is a moon, full and round on the surface of this lake, way back in the water’s memory of my home in Havana. Break it and you are free, [...]
sets an army of fire ants upon the trail of a garden snail the ants want to make a meal out of such a slow, meticulous creature a sparrow mistakes the ant-speckled [...]
