The night moonlight died Mountains trembled their cedar trees bowed the little stems that cascaded like stars between rivers Now to gather the tree trunks boulders, burdens the fog Legend are the fish all dead together in a cauldron of death Stiff smiles push tears...

Seven ways we become what we carry. Seven ways of looking out. Around the table, at grandmother’s house, Grandfather laughs away his mother’s words. One by one we weave Our tapestry of life and death. Mother singing lullabies: “In a world filled with love,” “God is...

There is a boundary I do not cross. It moves depending on the mood of others. Mom has nightmares of a family  broken by anger Babies without moms.  A husband calling from another home. My father came to America To own land. From our first days here He brought...