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Everything that I Will Ever Know (Zine)
Everything that I Will Ever Know (poem) (for Eddie Montalvo) The archives are filled with Anita Byrants, white, wealthy, privileged, whose voices celebrate discrimination, colonization, filling up boxes and mudding up (whitewashing) history while erasing (bastardizing) our existence, and yet… within nooks and crannies within the gaps and interstices, hidden in the subtext of manuscript Continue reading
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Distortion on TV
There’s a post I have sat on for a few months now. A post that I am not sure if I should write. It started back when we lost Andrea Gibson, one of my favorite poets. The shock that I felt when I read the news. The way my emotions boiled. It was as if Continue reading
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Walk
I have been consuming photography videos on YouTube. Each professional has a different take on how we should compose our photographs, but the same tip for beginners: go out and shoot. And so, I took two walks today. One around campus during my break at work. And one around the neighborhood before it got too Continue reading
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I Made A Zine
A couple of months ago, I adapted and shared a presentation I created for my Language & Identity class. Because I was not fully satisfied with the presentation and less so with the post, I returned to it during the final month of the class and redesigned it as a zine. I do believe Continue reading
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From “after ‘Gravedigger’ by Dave Matthews” by Guillermo Corona
The way I while away the hours of a day listening for their voices, the sounds of their laughter echoing so far in the hereafter that I think of entertaining the idea that I may – one day – see them again, or that they’re still out there laughing in another room in another house Continue reading
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“To Any Young Man Who Hears My Verses Read In A Lecture Room” by James K. Baxter
When some cheese-headed ladder-climber reads A poem of mine from the rostrum, Don’t Listen. That girl in her jersey and beads, Second row from the front, has the original nostrum I blundered through nine hundred parties and ninety-eight pubs In search of. The Words are a totem Erected long after the scholars and yobs Who’d Continue reading
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Chapin City Blues 