by zamora | October 17, 2023
for John Ashbery By what pale names we flutter. The thrush laystunned. (Did I kill it?) Now the blossoms shift to ash. By what shall we be consoled?Details. Floating minutia. Hazes of place and time. Not exactly signs, but still. Yours was an exquisite...
by zamora | October 17, 2023
Trees talkThey plotOxygen bombsMass extinction Listen to the author
by zamora | October 17, 2023
Near Williston, North Dakota Oil rises from cracked earth& men wipe down pick-ups daily, roll out & back again, slicked in grease & country,rolling wrapping papers. In the back alley an old porchturns its back on the sun, setting auburn....
by zamora | October 17, 2023
1857 The swollen russet knuckles of their hands are darker than the soil that dusts their hems.They have no countenances, these peasant French,reduced to three bonnets bowing. We’re meantto see them as our mothers grubbing wheat,triangular, stooped in breezeless...
by zamora | October 17, 2023
After J. Neil Garcia “Forgetting is a coping mechanism. With all the problems that overwhelm Filipinos, they could become insane if they do not have a short memory. But this has made Filipinos hardened and fatalistic.” – Robert Young “It is only that the...
by zamora | October 17, 2023
I wanted to write a poem1about the biology of a mushroom. I had intended to use scientific terms like mycelium and spore dispersal – not to celebrate the mystery of creation,but to sound eloquent, wise. I was adamant that each line be research-based with...
by zamora | October 17, 2023
this land is our land this land our slaughterlandtallgrass casualty of sprawl & mightdust along the scattered bison we claimthe treaties we make (intend to shred)we burn the land to the ground just to make it disappear we name the land ...
by zamora | October 17, 2023
Bodies In Strange Form, In Sorry Plight Killed by the warming, yellowed legs cast about. A heavy surface layer, a felt of algal growth, far slower along the shore. A black-eyed child hurries inside. Humid and lethal, the dark-haired sediment of a false...
by zamora | October 17, 2023
The last vaquita will know her fate,and won’t bother to stop to hunt, to sleep,nor even to mate—with whom would she get it on even if she were to desire to? She will merely embark on her final and solitary journey across the Pacific waters, with no destination in...
by zamora | October 17, 2023
Global Warming Releases the Family Ghost My permafrost softens, releasing you, father, like a dormantbacteria, unfrozen and hungry for all the living thingstwenty years out of your reach. You sat at Christmas dinner, you returned from the moon still loving us...
