to the very top of the oldest steeple, the one made of decorative bricks, highest above el desmadre de la calle, the old man climbed and put a handcopied bible to be kept closest to his Catholic God. Now the cover of leather is cracked in the shape of the sunlight that pushes through the[…] See more ⇒

There is a woman in Sonora, México who has a voice like cracked adobe. She stands outside her casita at noon and sings as loud as her small lungs will let her into the still bright desert sky. People think she is completamente loca. But other people come and they pay la viejita to sing[…] See more ⇒

The girls’ trucker hats ate their heads as the girls ate frappaccinos. The boys’ minds ate the girls as boys’ eyelids ate their eyes. Foundation ate the girls’ faces as their cracks ate their thongs. School ate the summer, cars ate the silence, city ate the forest, last ate the first, blind ate the date,[…] See more ⇒

He can see her up there, standing on the very top of the hill, her silhouette flat against the exploding sun. The highway behind him holds his red car pulled over with its doors wide on hinges, engine still running in cylinder circles. He stands at the bottom of the hill and her body is[…] See more ⇒