City Limits

Thirty minutes is all it takes for city lights to fade into stars. Thirty minutes for concrete to dissolve into forest, for lines to curve, for branches to grow arms, for death to come back to life, for silence to engulf sound. A steady decrescendo as the anxious purr of civilization sighs back into a … More City Limits

Introductions

I’m teetering between cultures and writing from a seesaw. Legs bent hands gripped bar thud feet on ground. The earth that pushes back is a muddy mix of Jewish Father– the middle class in the 1960s father, Immigrant Mother– the strong mexican woman from a dirt floor childhood mother, Other-Fathered Half-Sisters– the uprooted and planted … More Introductions