Poems from Annette M Velasquez

High up in the mountains on a clear, starry night, far behind me is the gleaming of the city's harsh light. Before me lies a valley clothed...
This black and white photo there- on my wall is of you, Mother at 15 or 16 taken during the height of WWII. In your life the devastation...
" The Language of Life" is one of my favorite books and if I were a teacher of Contemporary American Literature or of Creative Writing I...
On television the newscaster speaks the grim truth- that things have come to this: police " competent" only insofar as their picking up of...
Laden with thoughts, like ripened fruit heavily hanging upon bent boughs memories weigh and must somehow attain release from the tree that...

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