Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Minnie Mouse It is hot this Paris summer night as I walk along the city’s dark cobblestone streets, wandering old Victorian neighborhoods, moonlit alleys, and twisting pathways searching for my destination on mere hunch. A look at my watch says Continue reading Minnie Mouse by Race Hochdorf
Orchids My body flat and white like the sands of Fernando de Noronha, your body dark and tan like an Amazonian rosewood and curving like Noronha’s dunes Two people from far off places I drank in the sound of your Continue reading Orchids by Race Hochdorf