made the border crossing every day to pay for parochial school for her daughter & son with scrub-brushes & mops & her back & hands. she loved my dia de los muerto book...said it reminded her of how beautiful things used to be.
I'm a cook. And I write, sometimes about food, mostly poems. I make stuff. I get lost. I'm worried about vanishing bees, melting icecaps, the decrease of civility in the world, seedless watermelons, and whether there will be enough time for me to get it all right.
1 comment:
Wow. So much here.
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