January 3, 2020
Julio Cesar Villegas
& the horse-archers watched as I tried to tame the wild.
calculations of sleepless steps bent on becoming imprint:
because to speak my verse is to decipher my movements,
and if the stray arrow orients itself to my binding of skin,
let the wound te...
December 20, 2019
C. Fausto Cabrera
Magnified moments in the Prison art room
make sense, they build a culture; free. Bars become
a texture of rust sung decay outside the windows.
Staplers aren't weapons, they simply bond paper.
A guy asks about the value scale; he straddles a fence.
December 6, 2019
Love Quarrel with Ixodes
I leaned into you.
My hands, my many bodies of desire
brushing tips of natal grass.
You pooled into me, devoured
nouns, verbs, shoes, lucidity,
the names of flowers, flowers
becoming things. Of all the things
you tried to teach...
November 22, 2019
Remember the maw of the shears
surrendered to a shake shingle shed,
which stands on the edge of a sleeve
of meadow next to the woods,
and our words like dirt stuck to shovels
that now are the quiet instruments
of the trenches we dug, and the road
November 8, 2019
under the pale sheet of SSRIs.
the sharpest parts of my fingers
dig into my palm,
in bruised shades of purple.
i hold a galaxy in my hand.
the elixir glazes my gut
in nauseating swirls.
my chained beast squirms
October 26, 2019
I was raised in the light of mountain hulk of
a confident outline brazen vibrational
luster a conglomerate presence of pine stone
lion deer & bear’s
amorous desiring o...
October 11, 2019
A father pins his son against a wall
and wraps his hand around that little throat
to squeeze it only once, as if to say
I cannot take this wildness of your wings.
An hour afterwards, he wipes a cloth
across the stinging eyes his boy can’t close
September 27, 2019
Diane, remember the room divider
we improvised so we could each have privacy?
A twine between the two halves of the room.
Our bunk bed taken apart—your top bunk
brought to your side of the room and my bunk
brought to mine. We threw a dark blanket
September 13, 2019
Elegy (in process)
I remember myself and my open legs. Silk lingerie
to dance in. I remember that the grasses swayed too,
the olives and wheat murmuring toward the sky....