Thanks

The dining room table is cluttered
with too many things
that shouldn't be there but are.
I sit between my Mother
and Father
as we eat a meal
traditional in the small
rural Mexican town
that they are from,
the same town I spent
three weeks in
earlier this year
in the hopes of finding
answers to questions
I didn't know I had.
We didn't need to give praise
to God, or country
as we sat there.
We ate together
while they commented
on a tv show on some Spanish
language channel
about the cuisine of
the different Mexican states.
My Mom said
she'd love to visit Guerrero
but my Father said
things are bad there because
of all the cartel violence.
She agreed.
My baby brother played
in the background,
he ate something earlier
because he hasn't
developed a taste
for this food.
We ate our meal in peace.
I told my Dad we should go
down to the beach
where I work
so I could show them
where it is I spend most
of my week.
I suggested this
mainly because I know
that the time I suggested
will be around sunset.
The sun will be beautiful
as it dyes the sky
colors that seem unbelievable
but are. The waves
will be steady
and there will be a chill.
I want to be there
with them
to take a moment in
and remember
that despite change
and hardship
we've remained a family
all along.

Hitting Floor

Clotted up blood

of a bruise

stains my knee

like a birthmark.

It is still tender

to the touch

after having 

hit the floor

harder than it 

should have to.

It is not glorious

to gaze upon,

but it makes

for a great story

to tell over a few

drinks as we 

laugh about

everything

and nothing.

Standing at the edge of the world,


fall into it.

The Body at rest

The Tide Rises


Like A Heaving Chest.


Waves,


Soft Moans 


Against The Earth.

An Early Evening Late In The Summer

The ceiling fan blows the air

through the office as the sun

begins to set over the beach.


Cars move slow through the

avenue as an ambulance cuts

through the illusion of peace


and calm in this beach town.