land his approach to love he said was that of a farmer most love like hunters and like hunters most kill what they desire he tills soil through toes nose in the wet earth he waits prays to the gods and slowly harvests ever thankful the missing the way loss seeps into neck hollows and... Continue Reading →
Venezuela. The day Florcita understood what dance was, she was waiting for a Communist Party meeting to start. Two comrades arrived in their car. They were in their eighties, and had been active for decades, including when the party was underground and repressed. The woman had had a stroke a year ago, and with help... Continue Reading →
The title of this post comes from the dedication in newly released book Revolutionary Mothering: a book which "places marginalized mothers of color at the center of a world of necessary transformation...Revolutionary Mothering is a movement-shifting anthology committed to birthing new worlds, full of faith and hope for what we can raise up together." Here... Continue Reading →
This is one of Brenna Twohy's shorter poems, honest and confronting and for basic female dignity, as always. I, too have loved men who named my mouth ashtray, mistook me for a place to leave burning things when they were done.
Mario Benedetti's poem Te Quiero in English: Your hands are my caress my daily reminders I love you because your hands work for justice if I love you it's because you are my love my accomplice and my everything and in the street arm in arm we are more than just two people your eyes are... Continue Reading →