Workbook: September, 2014
- September 30, 2014: Holy water that was, I expect.
- September 29, 2014: A wandering crone...
- September 28, 2014: "We should not be doing this,"
- September 27, 2014: In your mouth are globes of soft rubber...
- September 26, 2014: Yellow inflatable survival raft.
- September 25, 2014: Mice under the blankets, under the couch, in the corner behind the lamp.
- September 24, 2014: Voices, music.
- September 23, 2014: It's like looking straight down a cliffside.
- September 22, 2014: This isn't Idaho.
- September 21, 2014: Your bookcases have been moved.
- September 20, 2014: Shots ricochet from across the street.
- September 19, 2014: To be carried through water.
- September 18, 2014: Running figures.
- September 17, 2014: Up the escalator, under the rubble: hold a piece of pavement overhead.
- September 16, 2014: The apartment has half-filled with warm water.
- September 15, 2014: Spinning silver disk, hollow center, vibrant and sparkling against jet black void.
- September 14, 2014: It's not true that the place is unused.
- September 13, 2014: "Honey?,"
- September 12, 2014: She calls her children home in their dark language.
- September 11, 2014: Two viewpoints: the necessary condition of irony.
- September 10, 2014: I will blow away in the first strong wind.
- September 9, 2014: Crochet cap and hemp skirt, soft pink lips, true smile of life's deep joy.
- September 8, 2014: Which day is today?
- September 7, 2014: See the serpent's tongue.
- September 6, 2014: Pizza, cake frosting, ice cream, a mountain of meds.
- September 5, 2014: City of Fallen Bridges.
- September 4, 2014: Little Lucita lights up her smile to serve the Gringo tapas.
- September 3, 2014: The Milky Way and the wine-dark sea.
- September 2, 2014: Older women who've compromised.
- September 1, 2014: Midnight in the City of Cardboard.