"Displaced by the Storm: Texas Evacuees Without Options" in Texas Monthly
"Poem for a Friend Getting Lighter and Lighter," Winner of the 2017 Vilcek Prize in Poetry from the Bellevue Literary Review
SELECTED POEMS & ESSAYS
"Voices of Katrina, Part 1." An examination of ethics and cultural appropriation in poetry. When a white poet found the oral history interviews I had collected from African-American Katrina survivors, he published excerpts without permission, as poems in his book of poetry. How should this be understood? (Poetry Foundation)
A meditation on my favorite performance artist. "The Gurl is trying to save her own life. She must make her way through slavery to freedom by learning how to relate to the spirits, ancestors, and her inner voices..." (Austin Chronicle)
What life feels like here: quick denial of dawn, then an hour
organizing paper. Wash crotch and armpits with a water bucket.
Paul Celan squats in the book closet watching the word mine
break down. Missing. The subject matter is lost lives and how
to make sense of the present: we need a spherical text
something cyclical, a circular printing press, a backwards
tattoo gun, a series of sleeps and awakes: after-ripples,
and the sore, bitten nipples of mothers. We choose the suit
of cups over the suit of swords so our vessel can fill and spill,
fill and spill. Time is a cell, a gesture, circle, snapped
rubber band, salivary gland, a stone dropped into water.
Time is the concentrate of cider vinegar, the crystallized resin
of remembering in concentric losses, while new migrant workers
give birth in clinic vans in tent compounds, when home
is function of fragments. A junction of overpasses.
Disemboweled light switches. Floss and thread wound tightly
and unwound slowly, and beautiful changes in the sky.