Erupt

There is a stone in my chest again and this time it burns red magma behind my ribcage. Grief I know as a sinking of stone to silty marsh bottom in my gut But this is not grief. This glows. It is my love for women and love I have accepted from men. It is…

Desert

Listen to me read the poem here I stood at home and wept. I wept at the sight of hostas and Queen Anne’s lace    and petunias and lambs’ ears    that grew    while I was in the desert. I wept in gratitude for rain I did not see or hear    or feel on…