Up in my leathers, my formulas My grandmother cutting away a wet nightgown From my mother’s barren legs. What the shining, The heaven snipers & copper pipes — Light what up, the mallow of wild Heart wood, a swung cornet, Soprano comet, the baroque & invented valves. Harmonia me into the good […]
I am chopping tomatoes, earning my keep. Next will be olives and goddess sauce. What burns me is the free ride, I tell you. How he will marry, how he will live a good life. And where does that leave my sister? And where does that leave anyone? You are considering this […]
“When you allow hardneck garlic to develop a scape (flower stalk), you get what is called an umbel. The umbel (or flower) contains anywhere from forty to two hundred tiny cloves called bulbils.” Even Ace has a mother. When he is not at sea she makes him: apple fritters box cake […]
—David McCullough What I love about California is what the world loves about California & tho they say there is no […]
—David McCullough The mind is an […]
Emily Vizzo is a writer and educator. She previously covered Congress for the Scripps Howard News Service in Washington, D.C., and has written on topics including the San Diego biotech industry, corporate social justice, surf, the arts, education, business, and health. Her essay, “A Personal History of Dirt,” was honored as a notable essay in […]
Your hatred of colors finished her off: your hatred of the pagan and razor blades. Flamsteed takes her away from her stomach ache: It is my structure, I will die beside her. You have what you wanted. It was Alicia: not the diamond. No destruction: yes you turned your back, you bit so deep. […]