poetry

That dirty smellthat rises off my skinas the hotwaterhitsis a smell I quietlyrejoicein.That smell that saysI’ve spent the dayouttherein the sun,its warmth flirting withenticingmy sweat.That smell that says that flirtingworked.That smell ofdirt andsweat andsun andwater...

he is my father’s son —my father, in the name of tall horses    snake killermy father, in the name of lavender doves    opossum killer his son —the young salmondrowning upriverand my father, resourceful angleryearning to fish himfrom muddy watersthe only way he knows...

CHRISTCHURCH, MARCH 15th 2019I. “Hello, Brother. Welcome,”Daud Nabi greeted the refugeesfrom far-flung places in the Middle Eastwho landed in Christchurch,but that salutationalso graced the gleaming barrel of thegun, embossed with the namesof the killer’s heroes —the...

Lucía Pizarro is the founding Spiritual Director at the Jewish Liberation Theology Institute in Hamilton, Ontario. She is the first Mexican woman ordained as a rabbi in the Conservative movement. She completed an M.A. and a Ph.D. in Philosophy at the University of...

introduction: on the academy and it’s desires How do I write all that I want to write while reading all that I must read while simultaneously attempting to make sense of it all? How do I adequately give weight and honor to this process of reconnection in a manner that...

General population But you’re not.Not anymoreNow you are an inmate of the state of CaliforniaA transformation lauded as reformationWith eight numbers instead of a name All objects except for a valid form of ID must be placed in the lockers* Valid form of ID Whose?...

you see, I wouldn’t call myself a poetas I have not thought poetically in some timelike a flower is petals, stem, and powderall flowers falling under the shade of wordsworth’s daffodils but I think now I can return toseeing a flower as a thing sharing this...

papers flurryideas hurrythe warmth of freshly pressed thoughtson eggshell leaves.a touch of the keyseuphoric releaseof fragments laced to prose.published vulnerabilitya flicker of humanity.audio poem with remixed sound bites from:Hanoi, the cityGiraffage – “Slo”Google...

The hidden river rushes throughThe redwood forest, veiled, enfoldedIn its own echo, babbling as ifA half-remembered beckon, alwaysBeyond the ambling path, remainingElusive like those momentsThat have anchored root and limb,Though only to fade and change andCascade,...

We come from resilience.Our ancestors endured,treated as strangers in their own land.Desperation and courage brought us here.Hard work was not enough to put food on the table.With holes in our shoes and a broken heart,we departed the beloved land that leaves us no...

For what are we but human? Such a waste. For what are we but human? Never satisfied, always looking, always searching for more. Always “improving.” Never satisfied. Never satisfied, always changing what was already perfect. So is it any wonder? Is it any wonder that...

A FREIGHT OF BRUISED WHITE PEACHESI have this friend who lives on the frontage roadsbetween Portland and Sacramento,a bark-faced bard with the voice of the mesa jackalsand the smell of ripening fruit on his hands.He races phantoms swathedin the dirty glamors of the...