Aparecida, Early Spring
JD Debris
A long exhale at the end
of a hyperventilating season.

All winter nothing touched
my neck except the clenched,

manic teeth of the electric razor,
the beachwind's salt. Marvin Hagler,

my home state's fiercest fighter,
a man so mean they say hair

feared his sweat-gleamed skull,
is gone. I've mimicked his ritual:

mornings, breathless, sprinting the hill.
A sea & continent apart, your curls

are on my mind. By the logic
& legend of that bald, fallen

boxer, your curls mean mercy,
are wild & fertile

as these blossoms blindsiding
New England spring—vines

around a cello's neck, its body split,
a beehive inside. I dreamt we kissed

so slow it was like breathing
for the first time.
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CAConrad
"Poet CAConrad Falls in Love With a New World"

"Each human being is unique because our experiences cultivate us and shape the lens through which we view the world, meaning no one will ever understand exactly what I mean in my poems. Once I realized this, it was liberating! I no longer had to think about the audience because I could trust them to understand my poems on their terms. A thousand different people reading one of my poems will translate it into a thousand new poems, which is a beautiful gift back to the poet."

via C-VILLE WEEKLY
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What Sparks Poetry: Dior J. Stephens on "UYP 7"

“The plum and the plum tree, then, became a philosophical center for me. Or, if not center, a lily pad of poetic thought, leading me to reflect on what exactly it meant for such fruition, such overabundance, to result in death, rot, and souring. And how, in a number of ways, these stages of growth remarked upon the trends of capitalism, (over)production and exploitation in Western society. I couldn’t help but wonder, day after day, if this cycle—that of bud to bloom to death and decay—was inevitable in all arenas of life.”

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