recently written and/or revised:

oasis of bones
she cried more often
than not, grief-salt staining
the embroidered geometry

of her mother's last chador,
now wrapped as a shroud
around her crumbled frame

and planted with the others
in the oasis of bones

crusade
sky, shrapneled, bleeding
metallic rain of aimless
death, sewing flesh-soaked
battlefields, reaped by
rebels yet unborn

mount pleasant/sidewalk sleepers
campo of my dreams
hills loroco green
blown to smithereens
nights echo with screams

homecoming
by 1976 my family had crossed the country twice thanks to the U.S. Navy I grew up two thousand miles away from my birthplace in my siblings’ birthplace, San Diego. I was three when we moved into the house on Patriot Street, a gentle slope of stucco tract homes nestled on the edge of a canyon filled with military families many drawn like mine from the rural, Black South who traded years, freedom, and certainty for a ticket to the world brought back piecemeal to the house: silk pillows, wicker chairs, shot glasses, knick-knacks evidence and explanation for months of separation and static-y ship-to-shore calls that made homecoming such a joy

(c) 2002