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From Joseph Fasano:

October 19, 2018

We are like strangers in the wild places. We watch
the deer swinging the intricate velvet from its antlers, never knowing
we are only as immense as what we shed in the dance.

The bride and bridegroom stand at the altar. Each thing
learned in mercy has a river in it. It holds the cargo
of a thousand crafts of fire that went down at evening.



From Diana Marie Delgado:

October 17, 2018

From a plum tree

the sound of branches
fall like fruit

I’m older
no longer afraid

my voice like water
pulled from the well

where the wind had been buried
where someone was always

running into my room
asking, what’s wrong?

Bridge Called Water

From Tim Seibles:

October 14, 2018

Do you remember

what the wind told the trees
about her brown hair?—
how the cool dark turned around:

that first kiss,
long as a river.

Didn’t it seem like you already loved her?


From Valerie Wallace:

September 28, 2018

When the world
Strips down, love is first a lesson
& then like a mattress’s teeth, steps into the mirror.
When I stare & brood as I do often
On manliness of all brutal acts, we
Fetch each other in and out of shadows.

– Needles

From Joe Jiménez:

September 25, 2018

                                             Caliche. Great bird, woodsmoke, needle. Snake, owl.                                                             Nopal vibration.

Almost every day
of my life
I have wanted

to be filled.

By something:
a great bird, woodsmoke,
wild laughters,

an untethered

When I’m on my back,
any yell
can be a needle,

any breath
works as thread.

Broken Retablo for Being on My Back, My Feet Bare & in the Air

From Analicia Sotelo:

September 23, 2018

Once, I followed married men:
eager for shelter, my fur

curled, my lust
freshly showered.

I called out, Grief.
They heard, Beauty.

I called out, Why?
They said, Because I can and will.

Bitch Instinct

From Valerie Wallace:

September 20, 2018

Know the difference between raven & crow? Histrionics.
My mind jabs, tilts.
I love a clean line.
Look at these bones, foil, bits of fur—
I’ll use my own feathers if I have to,
You hear me? You hear me? You hear me? You hear me?

– Raven, from McQueen Self-Portrait as Bestiary

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