Batidos on the Via Argentina

On the eve of something from long ago I walk out into a beautiful storm, the trees bend leaves and branches–freshly laundered linens, a veil, a dress, a comforter to keep us

to words once and always



Mending the Dragon

“These scales are remarkably hard to pierce,” I said to the wee brave patient as I tried and retried to reattach the wing, each stitch through layers of bright, obsidian scales

never made a sound

never whined or complained

This the cost of flight

and restoring what has been lost for so long


Once upon a time the Treasure of the world entire told a story about treasure in a field, treasure within treasure, a kingdom in a kingdom in a seemingly arbitrary object, a field of the whole world

I remember when these angry men were children, lovable children, and now they behave as though they still don’t know

You are the treasure

The King and his Kingdom is the treasure.

And if that were not enough, what will a man do if he (gains the whole world)

And loses his own soul?