By throat is how we arrived
A cradle in voice
A passion & command
By hands is how we arrived
A touch
Skin rising, cringing,
Churning of a bullet
By force is how we arrived
Scrapes & bruises
blood dripping & empty
By train is how we arrived
With prayer in our veins
With thirst & bloody lips
Trembling
By knife is how we arrived
A rip & tear
A cut & puncture
A sliced womb
By love is how we arrived
A fragrance …
Very soon, and in pleasant company.
—Chinese fortune
In a race for a tree, one Mexican soccer player almost beat the rain,
only to be met at the …
Since 2012, the Zócalo Public Square Poetry Prize has recognized the U.S. writer of a poem that best evokes a connection to place. Zócalo is currently accepting submissions. The deadline …
I’m smacking around a piñata shaped like a palm tree. It is southern California, mid-summer. The palm tree piñata is swinging back-and-forth beneath the bright summer sun. It is my …
there’s
a woman
screaming
on the radio
a cry
no one
will hear
can you hear
the crackle
of flames
making bright her
husband’s torso
somewhere
Reading by translator Jessica Cuello. (Scroll down to view and listen to the original poem.)
Percival’s song
is an unruly beast
a howling story
I …
