Rating: **** Passers-by would have heard laughter coming from the Wee Red Bar mid-November, along with sounds of fighting, drunken...

Many are those who, straining to be heard above the throbbing dub of the local coffee shop, insist that they work better with music, and...

A while ago, in the back of a bar in Madrid, a friend once asked me which, out of all of God’s creatures who ever walked this earth, I...

a horse rolls its eyes in me nervous whites reflecting windows held ajar by splintered blocks eyelash trembling tempting my hunger...

Casas de nación Casa de palabras: mátame. Casa de imágenes: acógeme. En este mundo de casa y casas, ¿dónde quedó la casa de aquél? ¿Qué...

The vans travelled alone, materializing in back alleys and underneath streetlamps, when the funeral shroud of night had been drawn over...

A poem— even with the prettiest words i couldn’t describe you the way you should be. Feeling Blue— I want words to come out of my mouth...

Breakfast at Nine Saliva dominates, Her salt washed skin brushes the beads of bubbles Glistening between my hairs, She moans — the type...

Portrait paintings were Frida Kahlo's pain-things. Her labours of love hang as trophies of control and mocking devotion: desperate...

Ah, a day to myself. This morning, I spread To the sides of my bed With fingers and toes Like a starfish. I made pancakes, just three:...

Fragility Is Not knowing Who I am. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where the cement was mixed and Who formed the Bricks That were...

THE SCHOOL ORCHARD In 1897, eighty clergy orphans moved into this school building. They sat on these grounds in September, surrounded by...

* Content warning for rape. 1. I am trying to decide what I am allowed to call rape I have been reading stories testimonies straddling...

Mother Sea, I forgive you drowning them then, drowning them now as well: swallowing, vomiting fish and bones through wandering waves of...

Graffiti on brick walls, 24 hour liquor marts, dispensaries next to starbucks, gum hardened on sidewalk curbs, abuelas tending rose...

Jamie looked like neither a girl nor a boy. They had ear-length brown hair, high cheekbones, and thin skin that wrapped their rocky jaw...

in basement chatter, an inebriated daze, i feel the pangs of her kicking inside. i tell me she’s dead. i killed her. suppressed her....