Nilda
Nilda Lottery Tickets get scratched. The Hennessey forms a stream. Newport ashes decorate the concrete. Hold it tight in your hands—hope, It’s called Hope. The Bachata was strung by guitars, By the...
View ArticleI Never Wanted To Be A Poet
This piece was chosen to be read by Reyes at 12th Street 2015 Online launch, this month. It is also apart of 12th Street Journal‘s series, “Crisis Expressive,”which focuses on why and how we, as...
View ArticleSpiral
If my ink pen could sing it’d sing to me A love ballad, the sweetest sound you’d ever hear Hums and hymns, like the doo-wop sang by the rugged The raspy high notes of […]
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