Going through a box left by my grandmother, who died before I was born.
Every day, every work day, always.
Some musings on us as a species, and what that might mean.
More social justice/equality/workers rights stuff.
This one is for you, all the working poor in US.
Another work related bit of poetry, in acrostic form.
Again, the strangest things that inspire us.
Another commentary on our society and social justice, I guess.