my plea
it is my turn to go picking
red handwoven rug
I will not write of war but
when the story unfolds right side up
maybe we're okay kid
my beautiful aunt
aisles in the grocery store
a home in the scriptures
before the grapes dry
taking the chicago blue line
a visitor
now taking custom poetry orders
I guess I talk about the present often, and maybe not enough about the past
my grandmother's apples
write about the truth, they say
