Month: August 2024
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the forsythia
I can remember them well but only just barely how the large bushes kept and clustered themselves into squat hollow half-trees along that chain-linked fence. their breaching buds yellow (of course) felt forgotten or just maybe fabricated drops of divinity sown right there into plain sight. no one stopped to be with them noticed they…
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august compost
it’s the black bucket, perch beside the deep silver sink who summons me today. teeming now it began its quest for emptiness yesterday – the soft relentless whisper coming from beneath the heaped seedy tomato pulp and all those black, run-thru coffee grinds. in summer things move more slowly around here- in preparation of the quicken…
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sandra
we belong to our mothers before we ever belong to ourselves and so, my story begins as all children’s stories do- with her story she was born to Amelia Lopes and John Santos of Stonington, Connecticut on Sunday April 4,1954 her given name; Sandra Lopes Santos the last child and only daughter born…
santos scribes 