Tag Archives: Susan Ayres

There was the chef’s hand he squeezed the cochinita pibil and shredded it with his hands all the bones fell to the ground. Afterwards the smells swirled around guides leading green-vested tourists through stalls past plastic bags of bones and … Continue reading →

            after Octavio Paz Listen to me as one listens to the rain hitting the leaves silently while crows caw somewhere in the glistening maple canopy and wild strawberries ripen each day. Is that what the bear searched for last night? … Continue reading →

                        Talala is Cherokee for woodpecker The muddy clay grass weeds stuck to the bottom of my sneakers like what’s caking my soul bogged down with mud and clay and straw, my airy soul, anima alma animus of my dreamworld between … Continue reading →