The paths created for ourselves, by ourselves. Journeys we take alone and together...

Moore gifts all with new eyes, new legends—ones through which founding myths can and will be unsettled.

She locked eyes with Angela and held the eraser over her head in triumph then straightened her sitting posture.

falling sun shadowing your face/is your blush the stain of your

this is the same river ancestors looked for guidance in

mothers’ voices called/“church is out” but not for us

They re-member Her/Piece by piece

Pale and wrinkled from lye soap-ridden water, these hands held pinched nerves in back...

the season shapes/less storms/harbored within