Earth Turned Honey
Moksha The desert has no memory. Sun beats on its chest, collarbone glistens: I wait for rain, an angry sea filling the sky…
Amanda North is a writer and educator based in Texas. She holds a BA from University of Texas at El Paso and an MFA-Poetry from Texas State University. She lectures in the English Department and Honors College at Texas State University. Amanda has poems published or forthcoming in The Open Bar at Tin House, The Learned Pig, and Yew Journal.
Moksha The desert has no memory. Sun beats on its chest, collarbone glistens: I wait for rain, an angry sea filling the sky…
On the Eve we eat menudo. Onion mimics moon from a small bowl, glinted fractals of itself. Cilantro’s diced flesh lingers in the…
. . . . . . . . . .Chihuahua Desert Blood slid to soil and our roots splintered wide like needle-edged…
. . . . . . . . . .an elegy Demark colored lines fluid as the Red sea and place names…
Is it odd to say I thought of you as I pulled a dead dove from the swimming pool? Spine up to God,…