Rose Heights Poems

My grandma was a steeple jack, 
Of heights she had no fear.
The crowds would gather round to watch.
They came from far and near, 
 
To...

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Lost Upon The Withering Heights

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A saddened season
   Again, this silent night
Trickling like a crying river
   Of crimson love and broken light
Where...

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Exiting highway 101 again....
Past Pacific Heights, to the Marina districts boulavard
Circling back towards the Palace of Fine Arts
An escape, after leaving the Tenderloins gentrificational neighborhoods
In...

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