Poetry
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Invocation of the Black River
Melissa says squatting in the river is like squatting behinda restaurant. Or over the toilet of a rural restroomseveral hours into a road trip. This is a moment of restwhere I must engage my core muscles. I lookat Erin unswayed…
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Three Poems
Nights like these, the sky tips like a kicked over bucket and tens of millions of wings are stitched to the Mississippi wind’s long seam. But glass houses false stars and promises of endless flight. Then, sends dark dreams. At…
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Eight Poems
Brown Girl Dreams of Arson Yesterday I dreamed empires are falling again. This time it was under the weight of climate reports nobody bothers to read andonline petition signed with burner accounts. I dreamed America melted like butter left too…
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Three Poems
over coffee. At least I’m good at nodding. Fishermen were paid to take the roles of morticians. Instead of shovels, a line and hook. There’s a bay into Manila that every president jones
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Four Poems
Kwikset That lock we kept on our doorwasn’t so much of a lock as a nonbinding contract I keptwith an outside world only vaguely complicitin our agreement— something we might forget aboutif one of us didn’t sign it every day—…
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Sound kept
“Description is a genre and so necessarily reductive. / What feels important to know is that there are logistical concerns re: theories of death.” OR “Impossible descriptions are made more gruesome in their optimistic attempt. / Up and then not.…
