John Murillo is the author of the collection, Up Jump the Boogie (Cypher Books, 2010) and the forthcoming Kontemporary Amerikan Poetry, due out from Four Way Books in spring 2020. Poems from the new collection have appeared in American Poetry Review, Poetry, Ploughshares, Iowa Review, Prairie Schooner, and Best American Poetry 2017 and 2019. A graduate of […]
Hard rain and reggaeton score the night. On this block here, At this hour, when even alley cats know to keep in shadow, backs To the wall and ears piqued, the few renegade rain-soaked heads You come across are here on business. Transactions and sales, Give and take in the marketplace of the moon. If […]
“Thinkin’ of a master plan, ‘Cuz ain’t nothin’ but sweat inside my hand.” Got drive enough to grab the moon with these hands, These hard working, snatch-opportunity hands. Left Soledad broke, made my first thirty G’s— That was September, now it’s June—with these hands. I serve Mama for free, keep her off […]
—Los Angeles, California, 1976 For me, the movie starts with a black man Leaping into an orbit of badges, tiny moons Catching the sheen of his perfect black afro. Arc kicks, karate chops, and thirty cops […]
There are no windows here, and the walls Are lined with egg cartons. So if we listen Past the sampled piano, drum kick And speakerbox rumble, we‟d still not hear The robins celebrating daybreak. The engineer worries the mixboard, Something about a hiss lurking between notes. Dollar Bill curses the engineer, time We don‟t have. […]
—after Larry Levis On a deserted playground in late day sun, My palms dusted black, dribbling A worn, leather ball behind my back, this loneliness Echoes from the handball courts nearby. Nearly all the […]
It’s the bone of a question Caught in your throat, Pre-dawn sighs of the day’s First traffic, shoulders like Fists under your skin. Say It‟s raining this morning, You‟ve just left a woman’s Blue musk and duvet, To find devil knows what In the world, […]
—after Adrian Matejka, Ernesto Mercer I know it‟s wrong to stare, but it’s Tuesday, The express is going local, and this woman’s Thighs—cocoa-buttered, crossed, and stacked To her chin—are the only beauty I think I’ll see For […]