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July 11, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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Peggy Robles-Alvarado is a tenured New York City educator and award winning poet who inspires triumph and embodies strength. She is a 2021 Jerome Hill Foundation Fellow in Literature, a two...
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June 27, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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HOME / MEMORY / HOME — for the women of Ukraine I called my home “Memory” because before I was born ancestral voices...
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June 12, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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Mullions cut the windows into equal pieces, there were cats prowling the halls of the asylum. Nights straight-line rain hit the glass, the wooden rafters shook. Oracles in white...
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March 30, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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CRANING The wings are scoredfeather by featherof nearly weightless wood,and neatly folded one over the other.The student of art in Kinshasaput her name in capitals underneath.Mbantshi.I...
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January 12, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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I will keep holding my breath, counting the slow pauses between when my mother’s gentle feetbend low in the morning, to when the bed holds the warmth of her body that once rested there....
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January 12, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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Better than immigrant recipes because tastes lose their tribe. In this neighborhood few buy lard— heartstopper, scale-breaker— preferring the viscous, the transparent, cakes...
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January 11, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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All light of yesterday in this place is now hidden. It could be the ground heating my feet or it could have fled with the stream into some larger body. I wait for the moon,...
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January 11, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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HEEDFUL “Hospitals in Ukraine are being battered by artillery and airstrikes with increasing frequency. The World Health Organization said that as of March 30, it had verified 82...
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January 11, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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Insects have transformed into a graveyard the windshield of my Indian Scout. My brother rumbles down the engine of his Chief, pulls off his gloves, loads the camera &...
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January 11, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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Winter’s darkening hour, shroud slipped over the leaf-strewn grass we once called backyard and patio where we sat under stars, wine in hand, warmed ourselves around a well-fueled fire pit...
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January 9, 2023 |
in Poetry |
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My virginitywas hole my Catholic mother dugin our gardena paradise the always summerand my virginitywith crumbled dirt on its edgesmy mother with her iron shovelof Godand I grafting apple...
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September 23, 2022 |
in Poetry |
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BY THE FERRY LANDING Clouds gather, an angry mob,then silently scatter, no rain.Some days you’ve just got to believethere is no grand plan.We have found each other by chance,and by...
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August 1, 2022 |
in Poetry |
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THE ANNUAL SOLSTICE GATHERING We’re planning our first almost normalparty since Covid struck. It feelsrisky, perhaps dangerous. Who wantsto be creators of a super spreader?...
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July 29, 2022 |
in Poetry |
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Art: Sunrise by Friedrich Haag...
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July 28, 2022 |
in Poetry |
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I regret never saying weenough I’ll bury my needleas allegory or violent outburstwhichever comes first that hot rock feelingsmoldering in chest and arm the earth...