Spring in the Suburbs

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  is a revolution long in the planning, crocuses rising up despite the night’s   last frost, their conviction enflaming the wide lawns green with reckless youth.   Now, everywhere, we see the zip-gunned hummingbirds returning, the red splash   … Read More

Sonetto: A Red Red Rose

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  Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so —Sonnet 54, Shakespeare   Bees are dying in swarms and soon the flowers. What is a sonnet without a red red rose?   What is a rose if sprayed another color … Read More

Archipelago

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  after the Islands of Chagos para mi Carlos Arturo   After Tuvalu, did we really try hard enough? One, two degrees, chronicles of floods. Still around us are deniers full of gods and facades.   A house of seashell … Read More

The Warming

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  A blizzard wraps me in white shapes, white lies. Uprooted too soon, I seek omen in a bed of white earth.   My mother once said, Go and find where and who you are. Go and search for rebels … Read More

The Bone Saw Speaks

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  By the time they plugged me in— electricity enlivening me the way God courses through the socket two bodies make— the man was already dead and did not know how tightly they held him to steady his head, so … Read More

One Day, My Body

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  I’m tethered since the man on the ridge,   limited to the path between the backyards and the cemetery.   This body is a rope that swings me over want’s abyss.   I am weak, succulent, a magnet for … Read More

Body Horror

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  To keep them trapped, the doomed office workers’ heads are rigged to explode. It makes sense in that movie-logic way—   bombs masquerading as trackers, some vague lie about company policy & for your own safety. The point is, … Read More

Dear Burglar,

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  You must have thought I was a junkie. Syringes everywhere. Upturned biohazard box. My bed, thanks to you, a graveyard of blunted needles. This is the second time you’ve turned me   over. I’ve stopped opening my blinds. I’ve … Read More

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