Fighting against the cultural erasure and violent silencing of black perspectives in general, and the specific dearth of black writers in today's literary landscape, the Black Voices Series aims to lend a platform to black-identified writers and multi-modal artists. Our aim is to hold space. To foster community. To loudly proclaim that our voices are worthy, that our words are magic, in a world quick to deny those truths. We thank those who send us their work for trusting that we will honor it.

#blackvoicesmatter #blacklivesmatter

September 7, 2020

Ode to the tuna melt

Because I was eighteen and telling my best friend,the godmother to 

all three of my not-yet fetuses—I ain't never seen no black palm, a

cheese slice, and tuna spoon preach a sermon at a congregation of hot

and buttered ciabatta. A...

August 1, 2020


Yes, I lost the lottery. I can never write about the moon again, only the neon ball locked between the dog's fangs, only what it's like to see without glasses. I buy expensive oils which come in dark bottles labeled Sleep. I buy expensive oils...

May 12, 2020

I’m Offered to Officiate a Plantation Wedding 

Mice and rats don’t crawl over her 

In a crawlspace. She does not drill

A hole in it to watch her children; 
Lay on her back or stomach; stop 

Hiding for a moment to exercise out 
Of a binocular, lack of...

February 1, 2020

When They Accuse You of Destruction

           after Audre Lorde

bell’s echo in war, your laughter

will be like this, this may be

knowledge, this being known

will break the world,

the sight of you, you are

will be unaccompanied, par...

January 2, 2020


Bag groceries at the market down the road. Because your mom

says you need the money. Because you need the money. Paper

or plastic? Don’t mess this up. You know how Cheryl gets. Eggs

and bread on top, meat on its own. Carry them out. Hold them


October 9, 2019

In My Infant Mouth a Darkness

My mother says it happened

before they started stitching her

together. She lay a spool waiting

for the technicians to rewind her,

herself just given birth, herself unraveled,

empty. And then they took you,

she says. Naked in my...

September 12, 2019

We are all living fiction        

It never occurred

to me to open

the window, the hell

would I want

with the sky?

The sky’s stuck

in last year’s snow

or something else

soft to sink into;

maybe we’d sound

soft enough on another


August 13, 2019

Bad God’s Blood

on my God’s first sermon      I tariff my grief  & do not wish to carry the cargo of the lost alone     

I don’t want the world’s brand of heretic          I adopt a religion...

May 26, 2019

REVIEW: Gary Simmons: Fade to Black California at the African American Museum

 There she is, as if alive. She is haunting and haunted; a Hollywood Miss Havisham in her crumbling mansion. She was once a real person, a somebody, a fond recollection...

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New Mexico State University

English Department

P.O. Box 30001, MSC 3E

Las Cruces, NM 88001

Puerto del Sol

Weirding it up since 1960.

Puerto del Sol is funded by New Mexico State University and the Mercedes Delos Jacobs Fund, and designed and operated by the students of the MFA in Creative Writing program.

Puerto del Sol is a proud member of the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses.