Chapin City Blues

Title: El Viejo Author: Edward Vidaurre Publisher: El Martillo Press ISBN: 979-8-3493-8312-0 Genre: Poetry  Earlier in the year, during the creative nonfiction class I took, the professor, José Antonio Rodríguez, spoke about his admiration for poetry. Rodríguez is, of course, a poet himself. But something he said struck me—embedded itself into my memory. I can’t quote him verbatim (though, I do…

I survived another semester!  I took a creative nonfiction workshop. This marked the first time I was enrolled in a creative writing course since my undergraduate years. The professor, a local writer, was a nice guy. Funny, too. Enjoyed myself even though my classmates were a constant reminder of my age.  We worked on two personal essays in class. The first was more memoir while the…

Remembering Andrea Gibson1975-2025I know most people try hardto good and find out too latethey should have been softer from "The Year of Not Grudges, or Instead of Writing a Furious Text, I Try a Poem" in You Better Be LightningThe first week you were gone,I kept seeing your hand wave goodbyelike a windshield wiper in a flooding carin the last real moment I believed the hurricane would let me out…

From "I am trying to carve out a world where people are not the sum total of their disaster"by Remica Bingham-RisherI will barely touch the surfaceof all it took to keep them here.They taught us to nod to others in the street,to holler love, to knead eggs and butter and flourinto yeast rolls larger than fists, to coax and heed the land. Before Trump won his second term, my supervisor told me…

From His Facebook Postby César L. de LeónCan you feel themHow they rageHow they mournFor a murdered poetThe birds & every thirsty ghost doTheir lament in your throat like a fist After Renée Good was murdered by ICE agents, I learned she was a poet. I don’t know why I didn’t bring myself to select one of her poems for this year’s celebration posts. If anything, her poem “On Learning to Dissect…

From "For Alex Pretti"by Joseph Fasanobecause he had learned to say itby standing each night beside the dying;because sometimes he held their hands;because he hade lived only as longas the scent of childhood in an album; I didn’t know Alex Pretti’s name until he was gunned down by Gestapo-level customs and border protection officers. The fact that a nurse is murdered in public for trying to…

From "Jasmine et Cigarette"by Ava Nathaniel WinterLooking over your shoulder as a scalpelseparates embalmed skin from fascia and nerve,it occurs to me: all we are is smeared out there on the road. I love imagery Ava Nathaniel Winter uses in her poem, the way she juxtaposes flashes of beauty with the grotesque. Even the title, “Jasmine et Cigarette”—although, an actual fragrance—plays into this…

From "The Girl Who Opened the Door"by Katherine Hoerthfor the footprints of years flowing through melike plasma, necessary and warm when freshlypumped from the heart. And so when I openedthe door for you, let your thick bodythrough the threshold of my childhoodhome, questions were never asked. All I knewis that your skin made mine tingle, and my peeking curvesmade your eyes burst to life like…

From "Speaking River"by Rodney GomezI used to be you, declaiming use the jowls muscle my brown protest outeasier to expelthan imbibe saying without saying A lot of local poets write about the river. The River. It is a part of our anatomy, especially those of us with familia en la otro lado. The river quenches the thirst of our roots, nourishes it. It is a beautiful sight. And yet, it has been…

From "Geometry" by José Antonio RodríguezAnd hair decays more slowly than tissue.And the eyelashes must have been the last to go. I am winning no favors not having read a book by a professor whose course I have taken. I didn’t meet Rodríguez until I registered for the nonfiction creative writing class, but I knew his poetry. I noticed there was a theme in my choosing for the most part. Most of…

From "Party Retreat"by Sheila MaldonadoOutside, we get bodega supplies, waterbottles, ATM cash. We're a blur of waving—good-byes, cab-hails. We're shoved apart by rude winds. I even poured over the books we have in our collection at work. Sheila Maldonado’s One-Bedroom Solo appears to be out of print, so I won’t be linking to any Amazon page or anywhere else you can find it. This is…

From "Para mi family"by Isaac ChavarriaSome parents came poor to Americahungry, rewarded by poxo children ashamed of carpentersunaware of being homes in the Valley I didn’t know what the word pocho meant until a few years ago. Rolando told me about it when I inquired about some slang in a play I was reading. Ironic, no? Maybe a month ago, we were tasked to talk about our relationship with…

From Poems for a Small Parkby E.D. Blodgettpossibilityrises in the lightas if every dawnturned departure towardendless arrivals whereonly the rising sunholds time in its lightasleep upon our hands I find a lot places relaxing. Parks are one of them. I stroll through them. Snap photos of their animal inhabitants. I don’t go outside as much as I should. I always find a reason to avoid it these…

From "The Light that Puts an End to Dreams"A Suite for Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz 1651?-1695by Susan ShermanVIDo you still draw the outline of her form as you liepressed against your pillow as you sit eleganteven in nuns' robes surrounded by thousandsof volumes musical instruments gifts from wealthy patrons Is it her features that haunt younot your devoted Countess she whose portrait graces your…

From "Mother"by Dorothea LaskyI promised my motherI wouldn't touch anythingThat had been long goneInside something turned and wiggledThere's a kind of transformationThat can happen on any day There is a memory from my childhood. When I attended Sam Houston Elementary in Edinburg, TX, a friend of mind had found a dead cat on the other side of the fence. We weren’t supposed to cross over, but…

From "In Arabic, the Word for 'War' Is Similar to 'Love'"by Sara Abou RashedWhen children protested the regimethen died in its prisons, officerssent their fathers notes that read:Come pick up the corpse in exchange for the mother,we'll ensure she bears another one. I loved the juxtaposition Sara Abou Rashed used in “In Arabic, the Word for ‘War’ Is Similar to ‘Love.'” The way the poem seemingly…