Insomne
Azules sueños cruzan la habitación a oscuras
formando el rostro de las noches
en un cielo de humedad.
Alimenta el viento
la voz del aguacero,
surca mis oídos y...
loose harvest
In another life, I was edible
flowers. I wore a fitted baby tee
that said tubular. It came to define
me. Fingerling sounds dirty—name of a...
Sabbath I
Every moment,
in the waning sun
is christened with the possibility
of rest, with the knowledge
that another is worthy
of the green’s blessing,
with the delight of light...
From The Adirondack Chair
When young’uns (poets mostly)
say elder
They spout it
having concluded
that anyone over 39
sat a couple of rows back
from Sappho
in...
As Moon Beams Fade
The tiger prowls at night,
hunting moon beams as its prey.
Wandering apparitions sail the darkness,
searching for a place to rest.
Landing past dawn,...
The following poem was translated from Zarpamos, a selection ofpoems by the Oaxacan poet Guadalupe Ángela, translated from Spanishinto English by Yael Kiken. This...
Ode to Mama’s Mac and Cheese
A recipe passed downfrom her Mamawhen she was twenty-fourand hungry.
Some kind of tomatoes,whatever noodles you can find,and any cheese...
Last Supper in Baltimore
An impressive murder of crowsdoes not makenational headlinesnor does the murder of young TaiBlack, trans, beautifulin an alley just down Lafayette
above...
