Poem-A-Week
2022 - 23

“Talent is nurtured in solitude.”

Like a shadow
You only appear when the sun shines

How do you write such long poems?
My mother asks me on the phone.
"Just like you make chicken curry," I say.

Turns out there’s a difference
between a halo and a crown,

You seemed to acknowledge that the same things I
needed in here I needed out there

I ask myself
I ask myself whether the color of my skin determines my worth
I ask myself if the love language doesn’t roll off my tongue,

we sip topo chico with the sun
drinking us down;

can you see through me to my skeleton
can you hold my bare bones with your eyes

oh hi,
you answered.
well lets get straight to it.
do you have time to talk about
masculinity?

The sun eats away
chunks of gray clouds
for the first time in weeks
revealing bright teal skies

My mother was a pelican, and when we went to church on Sunday, she always packed Crayola
crayons. She never packed the Rose Art crayons, because she knew I didn’t like them.

Like a blotted circle in a crusty ash tray
the moon is out and we drive to chase it
across the bridge and into the night

Daddy used to cup his hands at my ear
so I could hear the river. Every time

the world stops, something is lost.

Blood, tears
Blood, tears
Blood, no more tears

I must have often
and numbing myself from the pain

Dear poet
you are brave

poetry is survival

An international death

This bruise is a quarter of my life

You’re not in the photo, but it’s all about you.

a terminal constellation / a polka dot brain / some MRI scans /

make me like a sea sponge

Memories of you always seem to hit me at the most inconvenient times

Don't make me write about you because when I do, I build

I often fantasize a round table
three shot glasses, a bottle of tequila

rebirth
feels like

my lips are red from good conversation

“If you show me the power that

the man who held up the world

Soy una pieza diminuta

Her love for him is not just when he is full:

I come from the snow
and the plains.

midnight snack

write a poem
when it comes to you

In my parents backyard.
Childhood Pocahontas blanket
over my shoulder.

It is the song of the universe
Big bang flowing with inertia

Star-
ved steps
bend to the ground

gravel crunches under my sneakers, her
boots. i can only see what’s in front of

I'm Oyzis*.
I see you've come
with my doppelganger

Blue and blue and blue and green.
The day she finished chemotherapy, she called me.

You and I, we go way back

when does a war truly become one's own?

My lungs were tucked into a box

Wrapped in a pink bow

“Speak to your medical provider.”
But they don’t wear the skin I’m in.

I am standing on a grave that my ancestors dug,

What am I? I don’t have the luxury of being mediocre. My tresses are curled and kinked.

The heart of the Valley
beats in Panorama
Cycling between third world and developed nation

Does my mic sound nice?
Do my words sound nice?
Does my hype sound nice?

. . . and when I look up high to the skies I see the beautiful geese flying . . .

You talk like you have monopoly on language
like your tongue knows better
how to twist alphabets
and rest them in lines