Welcome to the Poetry Section of KLIO!

“To live in the borderlands means you are neither hispana india negra espanola, ni gabacha, eres mestiza, mulata, half-breed, caught in the crossfire between camps, while carrying all five races on your back, not knowing which side to turn to, run from…” – Gloria...

The water wells over And makes a mess I get soaked all over, And I mean All over Every layer of clothes and skin – My dress, my neck, my nail-beds – Are kissed by little droplets, and The world smells like moss And peaches And a campfire.   Mom yells at me to...

There’s a discount at the store today. For the next 24 hours, meaning is for sale. Buy something big enough to crawl inside of and soothe your agoraphobic existence. Wait in the traffic, wait in line, and tell yourself that you’ve spent your life waiting for something...

We sit in rooms painted pastel pink, wait for the creak of the sleek door to release intermittent shrieks and howls from newborn babies – screams shrill enough to break faces of the never-to-be mothers-to-be.   We stare at fluorescent lights, cold metal glides...

I sent you into the liquor store And on every shelf you found Me pining, needing, clawing for an Absolut only a man, Shoulders wide with contentment, Could bring a gay boy who came From nothing and may very well stay there.   I once had dreams Of marrying an old...

A month before The Stooges released Fun House They sit behind stage Imbibing piles of downers, uppers, and anything in between While a sea of heads crashes into Crosley Field. James Osterberg takes a handful of tabs Of Orange Sunshine, The same Orange Sunshine That...

I don’t want you to use and abuse. I don’t want to see your veins swell and bruise. I don’t want you to suffer, even if it’s what you choose.   Anyway I could possibly protect you. Anyway to intercept and ease you. Anyway for safety to find you.   Bringing...

Cardboard dishwasher; what a pointless contraption. Soapy, soggy mess.   Follow Ella on Instagram @ellafreda and check out her website ellafredacreative.com.

I’ve decided I want to start a garden, But all of my flowers keep dying. I went out and bought some more. Botanists call this species “ghosty” And it makes sense why. This one's leaves lie pale and curled On thirsty brown soil. A translucent paper ghost In a little...

“Can you blame me?” – Tariq Luthun   I know that I will one day abandon my child & don’t we all know or choose when death comes for us? I know there is a lover who could love me longer in some part of this continent or another. She will love me & a moment...

Mother reminds me:         Mother reminds me:         Mother reminds me:           Mother reminds me:       I remember:    A puffy-cheeked, glarey-eyed child bares her tongue not...

You went south and I was ugly once more rotting cabbage, blue-green and untouchable Eighteen hours between us no longer close-up, no longer like the back of my hand The feted salted-caramel-mocha-frapuccino this I knew you loved me, you loved coffee, and you hated the...

1. To be (decidedly) incapable of fulfilling one’s purpose. For instance, “I am too weak to wear the mask today, but my elders will roll their eyes, so I will don it anyway.” To be unable to perform to the best of one’s ability, which garners the same reaction as a...

When I first came here, I would spell my name to cashiers Starbucks kept getting my name wrong, making me feel so alone   Had to learn biology, economics, math, and psychology No assistance to the person who could barely speak English   I memorized words to...

Come meet our cast of characters, longer than I can list. Two girls leap over fighting fields.           They will rarely meet,            both trailing a path long forgotten.            Let’s think of each other.           (Do you read stories about me?) My, and...

I met the weinermobile off I-76 exit 247, you were the most divine appetizer State College, I am no longer starving   I learnt love in locomotion a pilgrimage of pulverized pork nestled between Henderson and Burrowes   a sizzling cornucopia luring me into...

where do assholes come from? are they born, or made, or brought from somewhere with a bent thumb?   and is this condition genetic and should i get checked because i’m certain my father never got tested but my little brother has his special brand   of...

I like to think my mother fell in love with my father Gently, like drifting feathers   Rather than careening Wings clipped,   No longer a teacher No longer a woman of rolling rocks and skinny dipping in the Poconos   Because those who stay home wear red, steel plated...

You've got it all figured out. You know how to eat another man without being disgusted with dining on demise. I wish I had your ravenous taste for flesh. I tried. I keep spitting it out before I can muster the courage to swallow.   *Editor’s Note: This poem is in...

the drumming rhythm, the electric glow of the Speed Queen Commercial on the go   a god among appliances, music to my ears, a miracle of sciences   tempos shift, spin cycles slow i still fall for her in pianissimo   her agitator, my aphrodisiac tiptoe,...

The same funeral home, the same priest, almost the same family. My mother, her brothers and sisters, now orphaned. Last time it was their father — he was ashes by the time I saw him again. He wanted to be spread in Frances Slocum — we’d go fishing there; but my uncle...

What is bounty without dignity? What is twenty without broken expectations and a room of unread books? What is adoration without disappointment? What is perfume without denial and worn-out escape plans? What is watching God if we’re watching each other? Carly Jane...

You, who came, beside the sidewalk, Upon a grove of small purple flowers. You who could not bear the loss of things, Nor the absence of beloved folk. Who thought to take the bodies, whole, Petals, leaves, and pollen-flesh. Even you, could not bear to cull The beauty...

He lies to the food pantry for the next two weeks. He stacks up cans of processed hams and hearty stews alongside a few tubs of peanut butter. A box of Ritz crackers he begged for will pair nicely with the Jif. His backpack’s zipper nearly busts off the track when he...

My life is a faucet I can’t turn off. When I’m satisfied with the water, that makes my tub my tub, I cannot stop the overflow and its propensity for change. All I can do is hold a small pool between my small hands and hold it close as the gaps in my fingers betray me....