7 a.m. By Beth Cortez-Neavel Cities abiotic concrete-filtered sunlight hitting traffic jams through sky scrapers’ grids Barely a sidewalk without…
Clouded Luminance By Beth Cortez-Neavel In the night moon’s glow the corners of the world are tucked in and folded…
Bloom By Beth Cortez-Neavel It is spring now and averaging 40 degrees Fahrenheit a week. The skies stay gray and…
I Have Still to Wash My Sheets By Beth Cortez-Neavel I jump at the chance to be touched now. I…
Ghost of Notes By Beth Cortez-Neavel a song like butterflies unfolds across the page like caterpillars the notes slip between…
December By Beth Cortez-Neavel And I looked up at the moon through the alley and the black fire escapes dripping…
It Is Cold and I Want to Be Where You Are By Beth Cortez-Neavel Hiss Hiss. I breathe in Slow…
Like Chocolate-Ice-Cream-and-Banana-Split-Sundaes By Beth Cortez-Neavel There are people falling in love all around you. On the plane: eyes light up…
Powder By Beth Cortez-Neavel There is this powder, so light so grey and it sticks to my fingers and I…
Words on the Page By Beth Cortez-Neavel I am starry-eyed little pieces of joy exploding in your atmosphere I am…