poetry

Texas              Chocolatedouble       butter-sticks h e e t             c   a   k   ewith                pistachios(&   big   flats   of   salt) must      remain     rightside       up       or      elsemeet         its         makeron   our   kitchen  floor....

Water is Life  We all begin, cradled in the water. The storm of our mother’s womb, we, torrential in our desire to be known and know the world, initially seek out of the water. But it is the first home we have ever known how to be in, and the water, no matter how...

I.Walking in the park at 12 on a Sunday, watchingthe trees and people writhinghow could they have risenso early? I nearly droppedmy Cherry Delight ice creamwith blue M&Ms(The tree branches cross-hatchedabove our straw hats hidingus from sorrowful sky us, nakedand...

Artist Statement:I first came across the myth-like story of the infamous “Royal Family of Oudh” in Ellen Barry’s New York Times piece titled the “Jungle Prince of Delhi.” Begum Wilayat Mahal and her two children, Prince Cyrus and Princess Sakina, showed up to the...

i do not expect to touch the sky—SapphoIAphrodite,my once-was friend.your gift seems no blessing.you pull bodies togetherunmindful of the priceto be paid.you showed me a world called We:a universe made just for two. andtrusting, i jumped in completely.only to...

           for 奶奶, in the land of steady hands Upstroke, downbeat, the waves fathomtowards the shallow surface of spring—            hiss      lake foam                 of           thin                  rain                     slicked                        ...

"Witches' Butter" (2022), Yazlin Juarez. Courtesy of the author.Yazlin Juarez is a writer and artist from Pico Rivera with a bachelors in literature from UC Santa Cruz. She takes every opportunity to forge spoken word poetry, photography, and design into instruments...

“yellow textile on brown wooden table” (2020), Noah Morgan. Courtesy of Unsplash. Magnolia trees that open their flowerslike doves coming to wingspan. Freshsoup dumplings, hot gelatin runningdown my face before I flick a napkinacross the downpour. Husking...

Lost in the leaves’ swing, I am trying to shake off their green, buttermilk yellow.The refrigerator hums and drums like a whining giant.This house song draws me to her, captured, hanging from a California magnet.Obsidian hair covers her shoulders, melts into her...

When I wake up you are raving about home renovations and Duane Allman and showing me doubling guitars— like how sometimes you walk around strumming the one you built yourself, or play beats you soon forget but I can sing for months. My stomach hurts and I’m tired and...

    My house is furnished with jars of tar and spit they don’t belong to me but take up the empty spaces Leave the TV on after dinner to drown the stillness with canned laughter or politicians on the evening news if the volume is loud enough, then you can...

Days that walk in slippers andbrush baby hairdid not hear fatherstell other tall men I madea mistake withcigarette interruptions her lilac dress suit and purse clickwelcome asphalt and kindergartenwith puppets inherited over hands ofchildren who hadn’t heard I am here...