There was a time when the surest sign of my affection was a mixtape: laboriously…
In Praise of
It is deep into the summer and someone is hammering under a midday sun. Metal…
Coffee plantations from old novels. Moving to Brazil in 1951. The third trimester. Moss. “Speak…
Every Saturday morning, my husband Tom goes to Trader Joe’s in El Cerrito Plaza for…
Because I have a daughter now I have to cut her. Or, I have to…