Rodney Gomez @ Ostrich Review
Andrés
Montoya Poetry Prize finalist and CantoMundo fellow, Rodney Gomez’s poems have
appeared in Denver Quarterly, Salt Hill, Barrow Street, Texas
Poetry Review, and other journals and anthologies. He was an
Associate Artist at the Atlantic Center for the Arts and writer-in-residence at
the Santa Fe Art Institute in 2012. His poem “Feast Day, Farm Road 511,” is
currently featured over at The Ostrich Review (founded and edited
by Nayelly
Barrios). Grounded in the landscape of South Texas, Rodney Gomez offers a
poem that mirrors it:
At the field’s navel
my
father caulked
around a
smoldering
horse, head & mane
hissing into obsidian
blades,
fasting
into lamplight.
He slowly peels corn
like a
wave machine.
The cars
loud as hooves.
The pit roars up like cotton,
the
odor of speed
winding down
to death.
*
Carmen
Calatayud @
Verse Daily
D.C.-based
poet Carmen Calatayud is the author of In the Company of
Spirits (Press
53). Her poem “Transfiguration between the Graves” (from In the Company of Spirits) has been reprinted in Verse Daily, a daily publication
dedicated to “republishing” and promoting poets one poem a day.
Carmen’s “Transfiguration between the Graves” like
many of the poems in her debut collection, blurs the line between the world of
the sacred and the political, between the personal and the spiritual:
I want to take my
nerves
and drag them from the
mud,
prove the moon isn’t
mechanical
and warn away from
god-sized lies.
I want to watch
headstones dance and
collapse, and turn into
green smoke
I could never see
before.
I want to sit in the
broken rain.
*
Tomás
Q. Morín @ The Paris American
Tomás Q. Morín
is the winner of the 2012 APR/Honickman First Book Prize for his collection A
Larger Country. His poems have appeared in Slate, Threepenny
Review, Boulevard, New England Review, and Narrative.
His poem “Circus Pony” is currently featured at the Paris American.
“Circus Pony,” like many of the other poems in A Larger Country reflects not only Morín’s
mastery of narrative and story telling but also his use of rich and lush
language and which create poems that are both bold and imaginative:
What joy to
say our short, winter days
are behind us
now. Gone the old life we filled
with empty
laughter, the times we’d pack
the backseat
with every hitchhiking clown
we happened
upon—our record was eight
until the
year our fathers died. Gone
the red-nosed
hours, our grotesque smiles
drawn
large and wide, when we rehearsed
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