Rooting Dreams: Can Access to Computers Create Alternatives to Youth Migration from Mexico?

Recently I was invited to Chiapas, Mexico to assist the Chiapas Education Project in creating a computer lab in the impoverished town of Azteca. The founder, Chris Esponda, has previously been restricted from traveling by his DACA status, so journey marked the culmination of two lifelong dreams—to return to his… Rooting Dreams: Can Access to Computers Create Alternatives to Youth Migration from Mexico?Read more

The Music of Fireflies

Enveloped by moonless darkness on an Appalachian summer’s eve, I find myself at last surrounded by fireflies dancing in synchronicity. Mouth hanging open, I barely remember to breathe as the night opens and I step into a web of stars and starbugs, to the music of coyotes and the sound… The Music of FirefliesRead more

Stay (an eco-poem)

The moon above ‘Aliomanusays “stay” and the whole rideback to the top of the hillin the bed of a pick-up truck,I yearn to call this feelingthat which others must feelupon returning Home.And when I arriveat my wooden gate,I hesitate for a momentbefore pulling the string latchto look at the coconut… Stay (an eco-poem)Read more

Revenge-Travel Blues

My anxiety is rushing along with the river as I walk the trail through ancient cedars still dripping with rain. The wind shifts and the rhythmic coursing of water around stones is overtaken by the louder sound of traffic pouring down the interstate in the distance— a panicked staccato of… Revenge-Travel BluesRead more

The Vanishing (an eco-poem)

“We just need to wake people up!” No, I’m sad to say we’ve been awake for a long time. We’ve been watching for a long time as she slipped away between row houses and street signs announcing Sagebrush, Poplar, Clearwater, Skyline— postage stamp reminders like pins on a map or… The Vanishing (an eco-poem)Read more

Sojourner (a story)

Memory’s a tricky thing. You’ve plucked at yours trying to bring forth the melody of your sisters giggling in the morning light, the sound of roosters crowing, and then footsteps at your door to wake you for breakfast. But it tends to be all or nothing so most days it’s… Sojourner (a story)Read more

Outside (a poem)

Eye contact becomes language as lips disappear, leaving only eyebrows over pools of so-much-to-say welling up on the inside. Outside, the Earth breathes. Outside, the hen still clucks in the garden and today, the way the sunlight bounced off the green watering can, her tiny fingers and gaptoothed smile as… Outside (a poem)Read more