“I believe in memory not as a place of arrival, but as a point of departure—a catapult throwing you into present times, allowing you to imagine the future instead of accepting it.” – Eduardo Galeano, Memory of Fire Written works in the genres of autobiography, memoir, autobiographical narrative, and even historical narrations (like Eduardo Galeano’s…
After Reading a Letter
if you want to have a father you must first be a daughter she said you are a self-serving daughter you have forgotten how to be a daughter, he has convictions she said you have desires desires but not convictions, you have built walls she said hard walls cold hard impenetrable heart contemptible mean vicious…
Reckoning
“Have you reckon’d the earth much?” – Walt Whitman I used to lay in the grasswaiting for bugs to traverse my bodymy limbsto feel their tiny rapid treadon my skincount the stripes on their backsthe dots on their underbelliesto catch their gaze for a moment—perhaps it was to feelto venture I belonged in their worldhere…
Grasshopper
A grasshopper stole my sweater this morning. Today, I suppose, he needed it more than I. He dug his toes into the fabric. I shook it; I tried to transfer him to a stick. But he held on. So I hung the sweater on the rail just outside the back door, the one under the…
Weight
let the water consumelet my body sink beneath its weightuntil it dissolves behindthe tile, the faucet, the flickering lightlet the room, the world I inhabitbe everythingand all else dissipate with the ripples I madedipping my limbsinto the invisible filmlet the surface be still above meand let me be as the surfaceas the space that holds…
Yearning for the Feminine in The Boy Kings of Texas
In the prologue of his memoir, The Boy Kings of Texas, Domingo Martinez presents a song that, in his opinion, encapsulates the “emotional DNA of the boarder male,” explaining that this “DNA” was present not merely in his father and other male figures of his youth, but also in his grandmother—and as the story unfolds,…
A Simple Text
careful am I with words but quicker they seem to be with thoughtsthat come to themreadypacked with a punchlaced with somethingboldwhile I sip waterin the minutesthat lengthen with each keystrokeand backspacethey send insight instantlyto the skywhere I’ve beenlingeringbusy for hourspiecing wordstogether block by blockwhen I ought to havefinished at least somethingnothing remainsthe bottomlineuntil I emerge…
Whispers from Elsewhere
In my mind I’m stillcrouching among the tiger lilies,peering through verdant bladesat the flower-studded landscapebeyond the borders of home—I carry whispers from Elsewhere in the pockets of my lungs,hear them when I exhale, whenin the quiet, Responsibility rememberswho I was before she met meand releases the leash on my temples and tongue. Then my braid…
A Letter To My Friend, Time
Time, you know how much I cherish our friendship,how thankful I am for what you doto keep my life running,and all life on track.But there are some things we must discuss,and I beg you,as a friend,to consider my thoughts:It’s wonderful that you’re always present,but sometimes I need a little space,space to stretch and linger withoutthe…
The Lady in the Window Seat
She was aggressive off the bat. Perhaps that’s why it bothered me. I wouldn’t have minded sitting in the other seat, but the aggression threw me off. All I said was, “I think that’s my seat?” With the inflection in my voice, that soft question intonation, that vocal gesture indicating, perhaps I’m wrong, but maybe…