“We are trying our best to bring forth every strand of Latinidad and also be able to put the idea of “Latinidad” under a microscope and criticize it and dig up its dirt and try to shut down anti-blackness. We’re starting to come to terms with the fact that Latinx isn’t a race, even if it is a marginalized group heavily targeted by the president. Everything is constantly redefining itself and it’s nice to be a part of the cycle.”
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This series — Latinx & Proud! — is a look into the world of Latinx literature and the poets who use language to explore the boundaries of their communities and identities. By sharing these interviews and articles, we hope […]
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by Timmy Miller & Sarah Gross The following conversation is part of an ongoing series called Memories in Exile, in which we interview current and former resident writers […]
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The following conversation is part of an ongoing series called Memories in Exile, in which we interview current and former resident writers who have come to Pittsburgh and lived in exile on Sampsonia Way. The […]
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In this Writer’s Block, recorded and taped in the summer of 2019, Cornelius Eady discusses his creative influences, his writing process, and how Cave Canem has evolved over the years. Interview by Rosa Williamson-Rea and Maggie […]
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by Trevor Moffa
Pockmarks in the Pittsburgh dark
Midnight oil burning portals open
Like potholes in the empty streets
Peopled apartments, blocks of offices
Being cleaned for morning, light
Left on in a hurry
…
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by Gemma DeMeo
“I didn’t need to ask./ I already knew/ what a rough night at the bar/ was like for her.”
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On the car ride home from a family vacation
my stepfather is half focused on the road
half bored with the radio
my mother sleeps
my two kid brothers blankly stare at a little screen
I vehemently listen to headphones
and crave a cigarette
my baby sister gazes out the window
smiles occasionally
by Debbie Wilkinson
“Will you tuck me in?”
Years ago picking through stones
worn down in the nestling sand,
I showed you how to slip them smooth across the rustling water,
while waves shimmered into sleep. …
by Richard Schnap
“The train from Pittsburgh to New York/ Felt like a magic voyage to him then/ As he watched the green pastures of Pennsylvania/ Pass by with their fields of wheat/ And herds of cows that dozed in the sun”
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by Brian Richards
“But this is a sideglance world and to the lowering eyes/ Of even my friends I have grown tall but dangerous/ Childless and dark dark dark darkling of intention/ With who knows what lessons to share”
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by Kara Knickerbocker
& if you had a map out of your body, where would it go?
What is the point of exit you’d choose to leave yourself?
I’d choose the wounds already claimed:
the fried egg-shaped scar burned above my left knee,
