We've been apartnow for a while, andthe pain has begun tosubside. But today, somethingtriggered it all freshand sharp.I ran across somepictures of yourvagina that you letme have.It makes me sadto look at themfor hours on end.I may be readingtoo...

We were drinking ourselvesinto the grave.I escaped temporarily.Greg didn't.He was crossing abusy street in Iowa City.In his baggy, dirty jeanswas a bottle of vodka thathe had just lifted.I'm guessing he was intoo big a hurry to"get well" and knockoff...

sadness dwells inside my sacrednessdeep beyond what people seemy soul connects to others differentlywe don't need to speakthe earth stretches and yawns with growing painspeople hurt I hurt with themMelancholy has gone silentand I with herdistress the faith shaken...

  I sent you a letter yesterday,  which I hope you never receive.    I changed my mind  about every single one  of the simplest letters it contained.    I have changed my address  so that I will never receive your letters,  which will be returned to the sender  under...

—A Griot’s Song for Gambia— I sing of this land where rivers speak—while The Gambia flows in her verse,as narrow as a whisper,yet wider than a mother’s hug. For its waters are never silent—humming with shouts of traders,drummers, poets, and dreamers,naming...