I feel the owls gathering with the dark,
and holy words beyond translation
coming from the synagogue next door
through a thicket of white oleander.  ...

Once, I tried to make a poem into a gun, wanted to stun the world

For a moment, wanted to feel the powerful, cold heaviness of it in my own hand –

But of course, you know, it refused.  ...

5AM, a spattering of robins and wrens
chattering about the coming light

                   and the dangers of the waking world
in a balding ash.  A television blares    ...

Through the slats
of a powder blue staircase

bright red bougainvillea
a neighbor chatters
someone practices the piano  ...

She bites off an arm’s length
of black thread.
Putting spool back into workbox
she licks the tip—
straw.
Elbows braced on cold windowsill
she holds needle to grey light  ...

Remember the yellow house that stood
for years, empty, used for nothing
but secrets?

A house built to last
until the end of days, or rot
in place?  ...

“Where are you from?” you asked me—
my throat closed on the impossible answers.
Can I claim a nation, a state or a city
as mine, without disowning all others?  ...