What to Donate

Clothes in cuts of shirts, pants, coats, jackets, sweaters, blouses, nightgowns and robes. Not
underwear or bras – throw these out. There’s too much of her in them to give someone else. Shoes in boots, sneakers, pumps, sandals, slippers. But not socks – sweat from her small feet remains.

Clutches, wallets, purses, totes, umbrellas worn through from shade. Lawn chairs from 1972,
a white elephant gift from her last office Christmas party. The machine she …

More In: Poetry

Can’t Tell You Much

In the frozen aisle’s uniform glare
a tall boy stares. Not through the glass
doors at tubs of ice cream or the stacked
pizzas in cardboard. Through the air
ahead, …


In golden underbrush and old growth, the wood-borer
opens timber to light. The bracken thorns itself against the sky.
By the time I wake to branches falling against the roof,

Go Figure

In her and her and her I saw myself:
in carved sandstone, a voluptuary,
her neck coiled to face her back, her back
twisted to pinch and raise for inspection


San Marcos, Texas

Around noon the sheriff pulled up at my aunt’s house.
My cousins had been shooting guns
around back. Bullets fell like ash in the neighbor’s yard.

My mom told …

What an Arroyo Can Do

It is possible for an arroyo to hold water,
just as a gutter, one of its definitions, can.
But mine is high in the desert and dry as scorn.

The …