Dad was home when Mom gave birth alone. A paradox blossoming between war-torn countries, I...

I love you but hate the other women. I think I love you. I hate...

What We Lost A General is what I see when my son Bécquer enters the...

“Ave María Purísima!” I hear her scream, followed by the clatter of pots and a...

  Writing a Poem is like falling down a rabbit hole. The more I write,...

“Mami, I’ve stolen a word & and it’s brought me closer to you—…” A Review...

El día en que lo conocí fue una noche de verano. Lo llevó a casa...

        His look went straight through my skin, his eyes fixed on...

Tuya Acosta, basura silvestre, no de zafacón sino crecida mundana. Vivió una vida de pesadillas,...

Desde que tuve uso de razón, siempre anduve con mucha precaución. Evitaba estar solo en...