DizzyMy only fear is that the world is moving on without meas I move on within it.
ColoresTus labioscomo un pincel mojadopastan pintura transparentesobre el lienzo de mi cuerpoen la noche oscura.Juntosestamos explotando en un arco irisEn ingles:Your lipslike a wet paintbrushgrazing clear paintover the canvasof my bodyin the dark night.Togetherwe are explodingin a rainbow
Salvaje para SiempreMe dijiste, "lo tragas,"pero solamente escupé en tu cara.Una bruja entre una selva y una playa de estacionamiento.Una guerrera soñadoraUn caballo salvaje de mujer.
You Can Never Go Home: CrazayWhen I was six years old, my school hosted a monthly International Day to celebrate world culture and give students a taste of ethnic flavor. My first exposure to International Day came when my first-grade teacher Miss Cox announced to our class that we would be “visiting Moscow tomorrow.”My best friend at school was a black girl named Iris Anderson. I only note her race because even in the 1990s, race was still a deciding factor in which lunch table you sat at in South Carolina. Iris had a troubled home life, and typically my concerns seemed silly and vacuous in comparison to the melodrama that would nonchalantly pass between her lips. I believe that same afternoon, Iris slithered down the spiral slide on the playground and casually informed me that she had broken up with her boyfriend. We were six. I didn’t know that Iris had a boyfriend and I had so many questions! But having recently watched the movie Steel Magnolias with my mom, I wanted to have the