birthday party for once the guest of honor is on time

news we rarely hear about the 52 journalists killed in the line of duty

around the last edges of summer the flight path of a moth lost in a yellowed cornfield

flat tire I feel as drained as the clouds at the end of a rainy afternoon

tea ceremony I am reminded of the steps during a catholic mass

unrelenting rain a guatemalan family huddled in the doorway of a house where the roof has collapsed

99 lashes Ms. Ashtiani's new sentence unveiling the curtain of injustice against women

nothing but blue skies for the labor day parade another 24 hours of being unemployed

guided by the bamboo there is only one way here and one way back

always in season the scent of pines toward evening