my back flat to this mat every vertebra tense, and hastened. hands enclose around my neck and for some reason, I think of childhood and become angry. I snap my hands and my opponent sails - surprised.   I sit

Love? Those thirsty lost lovers Wander the desert of the human heart Drinking at sand And shouting sonnets to thieves.   I’ll pass.   (Feature photo by Larry Luxner: Brazil: Young lovers at a cafe in downtown Curitiba,

We are modern day peddlers,   the Renaissance women.   - Except our paintbrushes look like cigarettes;   Instead of guitars, we rock the babies of underage pregnancies.   An entire generation,   underestimated,   over stimulated,   - and wrong.     We are modern day

My next-door neighbor’s fish pond - home to shrieking nighttime amphibians.  I’m a vegetarian - but I’d consider a frog leg dinner…   …those entrees keep me