C.T. Salazar
A rose pinnedto my shirt like a throbbing ear, an earlistening to the wreckage scraping atthe bottom of your words. — C.T. Salazar, from “[This is my box of twilight and inside],” American Cavewall Sonnets (Bull City Press, 2021)
Category: Latinx Poet
C.T. Salazar
This is my box of twilight and insideflickers everything that disappeared whenwe weren’t looking, — C.T. Salazar, from “[This is my box of twilight and inside],” American Cavewall Sonnets (Bull City Press, 2021)
C.T. Salazar
Even a whisper can bruise. — C.T. Salazar, from “[This room was no longer, so I put it],” American Cavewall Sonnets (Bull City Press, 2021)
C.T. Salazar
I could believe the soul is a crater—the impact ofyour hands on my chest. Fingertips & lips, forest& fire. You taste like cinnamon, or cyanide. — C.T. Salazar, from “You Called Me Castaway and I Called You,” micro collection This Might Have Meant Fire: Poems, INCH quarterly (no. 39, Summer 2019)
C.T. Salazar
Mostly I’d Like to Be a Spiderweb because in the rain I’d look like a cracked windowwithout a church to belong to. You could look through me and see the world in front of us. One time, my ex-lovers made a road of tongues for me.I took my shoes off to feel the song a… Continue reading C.T. Salazar
C. T. Salazar
I could say surrender until it sounds like a song or salve. I could hold your love in my mouth and make pearls of it. — C. T. Salazar, from “You Called Me Castaway and I Called You,” micro collection This Might Have Meant Fire: Poems, INCH quarterly (no. 39, Summer 2019)
The Vale of Soul-Making 