Diana Marie Delgado
Diana Marie Delgado grew up in the city of La Puente, California, and is fond of the color red. She received a BA in poetry from the University of California, Riverside, and an MFA in poetry at Columbia University, NYC.
Diana Marie Delgado
Correspondence
Brother, deep in the moth hour and still no altar to speak of. Everyone’s got a life they cannot stop. Time passes, nothing survives. The real me slipped out like a hiccup and Z marooned himself in the arms of another girl’s couch. I have a book for you. It’s about life and […]
The Sea Is Farther Than Thought
In church, the boys have so much light, plants grow towards them. My aunt handed me an organdy fan and said: Hold this if you’re frightened or want to lose yourself—the devil can dance like a goddamn dream. There are three things on earth to point to: the sun, the moon, and the television. […]
In the Romantic Longhand of the Night
Let’s kneel on gravel, take apart the lace of fruit, and blade the wool of gracious lambs who kiss hard and eat the changing face of meadows. Late, the lark’s a con of hands that frowns aloud, spinning a tale free of green. Let’s break into picnics on the phone, befriending boys who crack […]
Twelve Trees
The plumes of the avocado are sick. Dad cuts roses with a hatchet. Beetles swarm the figs. Crystals grow in the honey. In hell there’s nothing but crocodiles and fathers. In Mexico the devil is handsome and smiles in his photographs. He has one wife, two daughters, three sons, but no father. He rakes leaves […]
Diana Marie Delgado talks about a favorite line of poetry
Diana Marie Delgado talks about one of her favorite lines of poetry.