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"I am inspired by the
silent and silenced voices
of history and herstory."
WELCOME
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...to my world where I see the world in a word. To the Aztecs, prayer is "word and breath." For me, poetry is word on breath.
A poem lives on the breath. Poetry has been embodied through the human voice and shared communally since the Bronze Age.
In our digital age of quick soundbites, I invite you to indulge in a poem's luscious language and layered thought. And I encourage you to concoct your own.
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The cry that ignited Mexico's fight for independence, the cry of joy at fiestas.
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Grito poetry: I cry out poetry to rebel against injustice, to celebrate life.
POEM
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the small claim of bones
what my body knows
is not a lie it’s not
a lie i tell you it is not
it’s nothing short of truth
and nothing larger
my past lodges
in my marrow and if
i wanted a transplant
there’d be no match
others’ sorrows dwarf
my petty traumas still
these bones are mine
when they creak
when they moan
when they whine
there’s only one thing
i can claim these bones
are mine i tell you
they are mine and kind
to abandon no thing
that makes this pulse
no one but me