mjae

Every family has one -- usually the one  who writes, the one who spills family secrets  onto the page like so much grape juice  on beige ca...

from Poetry on the Bus My mother's hands are silken gloves Woven of the warmest thread, Embroidered by the day, year, life. Each care...

Eric & I got married last Saturday, Sept. 29, 2007. I still can't bring myself to tell the whole story -- Friday night welcome dinne...

Ever since flirting with being an Objectivist my first year of college, I've been fascinated with the idea of philosophy. I wanted to k...

This is the cover for the Voces Program Anthology coming out from UNM Press this Spring. I am sooooo excited!

Realize the strength in weakness in the space between stronger forces. You do not need to be the mountain or the man rolling the boulder up ...

A wise [planner] does not inspire people with grand visions for the visions will become [illusions]. A prudent [teacher] will not call atten...

To consider your preaching of more importance than the opening of a flower is to leave the narrow path. To value certain appointments on you...

You are a minister of the Word but not of words. The Word was in the beginning before words and beyond words. And whether they weave sophist...

I've found out that I'm going to have my name on not one but two books coming out next Spring from UNM Press. Both poetry anthologi...

Skin remembers how long the years grow when skin is not touched, a gray tunnel of singleness, feather lost from the tail of a bir...

We are cotton blowing in the winds of time atoms with empty centers spinning through space lending electrons to those we touch. We buzz thro...

Voces has started up again, the creative writing class I help teach at the National Hispanic Cultural Center the month of June. This year, I...

“A life develops in spirals: It always passes through the same points, but at different levels of integration and complexity.” – Jean-P...

They thought they were safe that spring night when they daubed the doorways with sacrificial blood. To be sure, the angel of death passed th...

Life heats up again, and now it's about words and how they string together to spell community. On the burner are books -- compiling book...

It was a time when solitude grew on me grew me like the breeze blows on seedlings kindling them skyward. The sadness weighed me ...

Forgive me the repetition, but I wanted to post the "pulpit editorial" [oh boy...] I gave last Sunday. It was a hit. I have to s...

Since the universe wriggles like space-time jello, we two carrot sticks puddle somewhere in the vicinity of Mars, meeting on t...

I've been silent for a while. Lots of internal and external changes that I wanted to sit quietly and feel. Sometimes it feels like ice ...