voracious i slip into bed, head full of tulips. if devotion is measured in repetition, i am inconsistent at best. morning, mary carved...

Parrots That’s an animal. When I first heard the sound this morning, I labeled it as another upset alarm and let it dissolve into the...

Nation When Nation shook her hand she smelled the spoiled plunder. Which alliance is not made of glass? Which sacrifice is not a beloved?...

The Only Atlas We Need Is One Drafted by Children I know, because a woman told me, even a horse’s shoe against stone can spark a fire...

Immigrant Making Art Origin Story 1982: I’m a toddler and my hair—black, long, knotted—has been brushed and pinned back with butterfly...

Studying Abroad in Mexico, Looking up at Man of Fire by José Clemente Orozco Once, in la Plaza de Tapatía, I wandered the streets of...