We are proud to be Indigenous to this land, As the desert is a desert with its sand. We are not from India, you named us wrong, Indigenous to this area, we’re Narragansett strong. We walk with you day by day unnoticed, because of the stereotypical looks, of what you learn in your books. We […]
1. HER WEB It looks like a wheel of diamonds you said. My eyes moved to the corner of the porch where you had noticed the spider, bigger than any I’d ever seen, finishing a hoop of her web. A barn spider, an orb weaver, you said. Harmless to us, despite the look of her, […]
Crossing over the desert brow spare ranges, sparse rivers I see the red lights south & how softly they wave their fingers Who are all these places we call home? Do all our roots have voices we can simply call or cut off? The pecan tree coughs fruit onto to the ground, mockingbirds sing for […]
“I never believed something, / or somebody, could hold me,” writes Sarah Kersey in the title poem of their debut collection, Residence Time (Newfound, Oct 2024). They hope the biblical Moses will offer them wisdom on his adoptive mother, even as the sea rises. Instead, Kersey teaches themselves to swim: “I finally learned to float.” […]
You shipped them: Mulder and Scully. Some spooky guy hot for aliens, hair flopping tantrums at a bald FBI father figure. Too punk rock for paperwork, he rendezvoused in soft lit parking garages with strangers. She filed the official reports on slick gray creatures, straight-faced in her blazer. Snapped latex glove above autopsy table. Scalpelled […]
Summertime on the stoopat Grandma’s,with my cousins,laughing whilethe ice cream truckmusic blared.Get three cones and a chocolateéclair.Sometimes,we spent the whole daysitting on those stairs.Grandma in the living room,watching Telemundo.Bachata musicplaying outfrom the second floor.Pooling all our money togetherfor some munchies.Someone,take a walk with meto the corner store.Piling in the car,now we’re headingto the beach.Ice in […]
“Spokenword” poetry, an art form steeped in tradition and innovation, has woven its way through the annals of history, echoing the voices of griots, resonating in the streets of Harlem, and pulsating through the beats of rebellious hearts. From its origins in African oral tradition to its modern manifestations in the poetry scene of Providence, […]
walking from bell st. the sky is a warm and closedusky blueas usual, I think aboutmy head.the blocks are cooling and darkI have less to say to you.there are books of poetry on the ground“the unmappable now”so deep blue.if I am gentleand by knowing my gentlenessyou know yoursthen take my face in your hand and […]
We’re John Kotula and Anthony DiPietro. A mutual friend put us together. We’re both writers who celebrate Pride. For several weeks we have been in dialogue by text, email, phone, and once over coffee. John Kotula: Anthony has a new book of poetry, kiss & release, which looks at relationships and sex, drawing on his […]
Thumb traces thumb, lines flat and forgotten until the lazy sun stretches to her highest and the past burns white hot — smooth as satin. Indifferent, a toaster hums through the quiet. Torrid New England summer, tepid wind heaven sent. Sidewalks cracked, the sweaty outline of our thighs pressed deep in the unforgiving pavement. Brow […]