Author Archives: José Araguz

  I make supplications to the birds whose feathers were blades, lost in war. birds whose bones could no longer be found in the museum, because they flew over the face of the sky, in a time of climate change. … Read More

  the day an airplane crashed, the air became heavy with the aura of mouths sore with grieving songs. I was taught to plead with the fire in my broken tongue as would an owl, tired of nocturne. the confession … Read More

  —for M.F.O.   Sent to the front, all around me                       crack & steel fire, shouting voices— I feared no death, only sat down bullets buzzing hornets past head—            And roar became silence—   But sun shone anvils heat                   pack … Read More

  First, the remains of foil balloons littering the bank of the pond, a string once tied to a child’s wrist. Then, a pilot in uniform,   perhaps on leave, stepping quietly past the jungle gym and benches, with his … Read More

  When your husband is buried just a few steps away from the house how can you ever leave? When you can open the front door and say “It’s a beautiful day, dear,” and you’re talking to your dead husband … Read More

  She slept with the bear to relieve herself of the burden of purity to travel the world alone with only a backpack.   Apple trees lit up with ten thousand sun-filled blossoms.   She winced when he pinched her … Read More

  —after Aimee Mann   I can still feel the ricochet of myself at sixteen, the windows cracked and gone down the years.   There’s no warning. I was already gathering velocity when I arrived and my trajectory is only … Read More

  Here, there is a great big willow that gives its shade in the summer. Wilted little leaves tumble into my lap. I bury the dry bodies of ants. I introduce dirt under my fingernails. In this world, I have … Read More

  What does it mean to leave a colony? A penguin is heading toward the mountains, directionless, slow and strange. Pearlwort smashed under heavy snow, he follows the grey light of winter. After some tomorrow comes the mountain. After the … Read More

  We may not have learned what a verb was but we learned what a noncount noun was. We may have forgotten what a noncount noun was but we learned what a transitive verb was.   I may have given … Read More

  Our directions said take exit 31 or 33 so we of course took 32 and drove off the map into thin gray roads, slanting drizzle, pairs of Rottweilers guarding driveways from our turnarounds until we reach it, a small … Read More

  In Cambridge, I bought a Passport to the Moon, with a large map from 1679 drawn by Giandomenico Cassini, & issued by the Lunar Ministry of Solar System & Interstellar Travel. There is a place to paste my photo, … Read More