this photo wasn’t planned: we’re just here for my son’s annual picture to be mailed with Christmas cards he’s three now wearing a rainbow patchwork shirt hugging Big Bird Jennie my bestfriend in blue-flowered top sitting in her electric wheelchair I’m in raggedy faded t-shirt never expecting “Hey, why don’t I take the three of […]
Chicago Spring, 1983
Posted inLit Issue, Poetry
Are There No Workhouses?
Posted inHoliday Issue 2015, Poetry
Language of the Unheard