Poetry

It comes in waves

Poem by Andrea Valadez At first it’s the kind of wave that looks inviting and make you want to walk in slowly just to feel...

The Childhood I Am From

Poem submitted by Gloria Salcido I am from Wood-panel walls A Bible and notebook left open on the couch Men’s dress shoes and boys’ sneakers strewn about the living room A...

You Know I Hate the Sun

Poem by Parker Jones / In the Ords You Know I Hate the Sun,  but I’d walk with you in the heat of summer,  with the smell...

9.29

9; Cybertorture II round a narrow footpathonto a gravel road…there the trees have made a tunneland I pass beneath the branches.A windy day,with storms...

Finals Week Speech

It's the final countdown, final call Final soft thud of my head against the wall Full throttled abstention Just one week to go I'm google over-drive And it's starting to...

I May Never Read Again

This morning I sat down for my regimented skim. Today, The New Yorker, December 7th issue, The Talk of the Town. How I’d landed on this...