I wrote a "Letter to a Stranger" as part of a recurring feature in the on-line travel writing journal, Off Assignment. You can read the letter & hear my recording of the piece by following the SoundCloud link on the site. My letter is addressed to my late grandmother, Cleopatra, and it's about the summer we spent together in 2001.
Sarah Howe and the editorial team at the innovative UK-based journal Prac Crit asked me to compose a Deep Note feature for their latest issue. I've been working on villanelles lately, so my poem "Scarlet" and the accompanying essay-in-footnotes talk about recursiveness (of dream and of line). Read & enjoy & enjoy & read.
I'm a 2016 blogger for Ploughshares! Approximately once a month, I'll progress query-by-query through Thomas Jefferson's Notes on the State of Virginia, seeking poetic connections. This month is all about water (and villanelles).
Two new poems, "Lament" and "I Married a Horseman," have appeared in Crazyhorse Issue 88. You'll have to buy the print issue to see my poems, but you can read several wonderful pieces by other contributors on the website.
The Creative Writing Department at Washington University in St. Louis has started a new literary journal called The Spectacle, and I have two new poems in the inaugural issue: "First Girdle" and "Bikini Bridge." The artwork for this issue is really incredible. I'm honored to have my work included!
My poem, "Vigil," has appeared in Issue 39.3 of The Journal, the literary magazine of The Ohio State University.
I'm grateful to Nate Brown for inviting me to reflect on Baltimore for the American Short Fiction blog. This piece is part of their "Things American" feature. Other Baltimore writers who have contributed include: Jane Delury, Michael Downs, Derick Ebert, Kenneth Morrison, Lia Purpura, Deborah Rudacille, D. Watkins, and Khaliah Williams.
For my part, I decided to interview my mother, Patricia Petrosino, a former teacher/administrator in Baltimore City Public Schools. Scroll down for her wonderful / terrifying description of Baltimore's meat wholesale district in the 1970s!
I wish to put my blackness into some kind of order. My blackness, my builtness, my blackness, a bill. I want you to know how I feel it: cold key under the tongue. Mean fishhook of homesickness that catches my heart when I walk under southern pines. And how I recognized the watery warp of the floor in my great-grandma’s house, when I dreamed it. This is what her complaining ghost said: Write about me.Read More