Browse By

Category Archives: Poetry

No Thumbnail

Notes on Self-Discovery

I’m the most cowboy folk I know out of Durango boots, absent faded- bronze Ariat hat (1). I feel myself best as FL4K (2), the non-binary automatonic star of the loot-&-shoot galaxy. They command creatures of the waste lands, a glimmer of unforgiveness in their

No Thumbnail

Diversity Statement as a Series of GIFs

1. Dead Mike from CB4 standing in front of a liberation flag with raised fist, wearing an Ankara cap whilst rapping, “I’M BLACK Y’ALL. AND I’M BLACK Y’ALL. AND I’M BLACKER THAN BLACK, AND I’M BLACK Y’ALL.” 2. Titus Andronicus shrugging his shoulders and saying,

No Thumbnail

The End

RIP the 163 orcas who have died in captivity at marine parks.  No one knows what plays in the mind’s dark theater,   when ropeshold you afloat at the end.   What song-worm hums   a motionless whale body: mating trills,   eager tenor of takeaway ships,  or mother’s cries because mothers cry   like animals

No Thumbnail

everything limes.

stillness is a  blessing.  the quiet rests & unrests.   pleasure muses  in sunlight & sometimes raindrops. laughter bends & stretches.  a  bird, a  wind  chime.   dancing  heals  the  soul.   i’ve  never  cried,     never danced.  so  much  beauty  in  sorrow.  it’s  hard  to  breathe  without breaking

No Thumbnail

Will Rogers State Beach

We should call it Gay Beachagain, like they did in the seventieswhen your mother spent summers selling sandwiches from a cooler. Hiland Dale’s made tuna for sun-kissed men kissing men who poured out of The Friendship into daylighthungry and drunk. Ducked belowthe echoing underpass lit

No Thumbnail

I get it now

When you said just chop a clove of garlic and swallow it like a pill in response to my bronchitis, it wasn’t about bootstraps and pulling at them or mistrusting the doctors even though you did mistrust them.  It was about that oasis each of us must find

No Thumbnail

Assembling my dining room table before dinner

I used to cut cucumbers with the green knife and now I use it to dig into the cardboard box—layer of foam. Layer of plastic. The table: four legs and a flat square top. I’m tired and made of knees. All week I’ve been having

No Thumbnail

A Transition Like a Mexican Telenovela

the story begins and ends with marriage,or a lack of marriage, which turns into a confession. you confessthere is a gun, hidden in the dirt and grass and no one really remembers it anymore,but everyone can remember a job well done. a father and his

No Thumbnail

walkouts

who would do anything for their country if they didn’t first love someone in it sixth grade, I’m scaling a fence with the other immigrant kids, all of us raised on gratitude for a country that doesn’t want us the school’s on lockdown but we’re