Flannelled, freezing,
and iPhone compatible,
we re-paint the streets
with lines of Adderall
and stage our acrobatics
with subtle instamatics
Continue reading
Flannelled, freezing,
and iPhone compatible,
we re-paint the streets
with lines of Adderall
and stage our acrobatics
with subtle instamatics
Continue reading
The idea that now he could see us, hear us,
know all that we thought. Terrifying,
and too much power for a boy’s soul;
just yesterday he was a Boy Scout.
But maybe that’s the reward for feeding
your flesh to flames: clairvoyance.
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Dying towns are filled with ghosts
of the people who inhabit them, not celestial bodies.
But what are we to the moon, if not celestial?
Could we be heavenly?
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we both know what it means to shudder, pregnant
with delight at the blue veined banquet of belly, we
both kick husbands sprawling as we kneel between
their wives’ spread legs, agape with the slush of life
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A man who drinks between my long white columns/
tastes history: the first time I/ touched my breasts,/
then below, when I changed into an/ ocean from a dam—/
my belly a sculptor of people, fed by/ the milk-springs/
of my mountains. Continue reading
Certainly doubt can be a refuge, especially when a ray of light is beyond my reach. Continue reading
Which country do you love more?
The question asked of each one of us
young travelers of the diaspora,
children with shiny shoes and English textbooks. Continue reading
Our poetry editor for March/April is Michelle Peñaloza who grew up in Nashville, Tennessee. She is the author of two chapbooks: landscape/heartbreak (Two Sylvias Press, 2015) and Last Night I Dreamt of Volcanoes (forthcoming, Organic Weapon Arts, 2015). Her poetry can be found in The Asian American Literary Review, The New England Review, TriQuarterly, Pinwheel, and elsewhere. She is the recipient of fellowships, scholarships, and awards from the University of Oregon, Kundiman, Artist … Continue reading