Stream Trail in Spring
I could hear the shuffle of a spotted towhee
Category Poetry
Women’s Compartment
Outside the city unravels—billboards, half-built flyovers, and a guava-seller.
What Remains
They teach you to you that revolutions are swift or that they never are.
Paper Promises
The bonfire will be built in the encampments so it may burn the unhoused.
Velophilia
Bikes are time travelers, Magnanimous Pooh-Bahs
There are no Filipinos in Mississippi
the communion of onion and garlic wafting from inside
Raa Haa Meem Or The 8th Type of Love
Can we make a museum out of our softness?
Gianni
Things fall apart so much quicker than they grow.
Fluorescent God
their eyes already peeling the steam off my back
The Emissaries of Rift
One comes with mouth full of ash, coughing out treaties no one honored.