“I’m entering time, taking the time of the terrain, entering the tempest of the broken temblor in its strip of sundowns and I enter, torpid turf of pasture, stubborn stair... Read More

Forget butterflies. Forget apron strings, broken hearts, and the anomie of a perpetual teenage romanticism that many readers still expect from Hispanic women’s poetry. In her... Read More

Forget butterflies. Forget apron strings, broken hearts, and the anomie of a perpetual teenage romanticism that many readers still expect from Hispanic women’s poetry. In her... Read More