Zach3,
2017
Dominican University of California
Zach4,
2017
Dominican University of California
Untitled,
2017
Dominican University of California
Jhoy,
2017
Dominican University of California
Princess,
2017
Dominican University of California
Immigration Told Through Cuisine,
2017
Dominican University of California
Immigration Told Through Cuisine, Melissa Hughs
The Tuxedo Archives
The Fortune Cookie Chronicles by Jennifer 8. Lee is a wonderful, well researched book. Lee, the daughter immigrants from China and a speaker of fluent Mandarin, began this book as a research study into the lives of people who won lotteries based on numbers found in fortune cookies. What the project turned into was a discovery of herself and her culture. Lee, whose middle initial means prosperity in Chinese, combines historical facts and the stories of immigrants, along with her experiences as the daughter of immigrants, in order tell the story of Chinese food. ~excerpt from prose
Being Blond,
2017
Dominican University of California
Being Blond, Audrey Curtis
The Tuxedo Archives
The vast majority of people have hair, and, however they choose to cut, color, or style it, it's always there, on top of their head (and frequently hanging off onto the sides). For me, my hair is always present in a much more vividly apparent way than is true of most people, for I am blond. ~excerpt from short story
Outskirts Of Berlin, November 18, 1949,
2017
Dominican University of California
Outskirts Of Berlin, November 18, 1949, Jackson Wayne
The Tuxedo Archives
Were almost there, sir”, said the young uniformed driver. There was not much to say from the man in the back of the jeep. He was very quiet with and had aviator’s shades covering his eyes. Unlike the driver, the man in the back did not have on an army uniform or even look presentable or even dressed for the weather. Only a Hawaiian aloha print shirt and khaki slacks barely seemed to shield him from the cruel winter breeze. As they came upon their destination the driver reached over to give the man a green field jacket. ~excerpt from …
When It Becomes His Gun,
2017
Dominican University of California
When It Becomes His Gun, Jennie Lillard
The Tuxedo Archives
It’s not dead. Ok. Ok. Dad says: If the bird’s not dead, be ready with another shell if it decides to
take to the air. If I can get to it, put the bird on the ground, and smash it--smash it right on the neck--with
the butt of the gun. ~excerpt from short story
Sight,
2017
Dominican University of California
Sight, Allysa Miranda
The Tuxedo Archives
The sun beat down on the small suburban park in which all the local children spent their summers. Their laughter rang out among the trees and trickling brook that surrounded the minute playground. The cement path that wound its way around the child-size structures was lined with park benches, all desperately in need of a new paint job. These benches were filled with the mothers and babysitters forced to sit waiting for their charges to finally tire and be ready to lay down for their naps. ~excerpt from short story
Kitchen Poem #4,
2017
Dominican University of California
Kitchen Poem #4, Lauro Vasquez
The Tuxedo Archives
I like to chase you around the kitchen
treading your footsteps like the
tracks of a seagull marking my way
to your shores because it is then
that your feet become the loveliest ~excerpt from poem
To The Untouchables,
2017
Dominican University of California
To The Untouchables, Lauro Vasquez
The Tuxedo Archives
to those who’s name or place
of origin is known by no one
to those who’s bullet-ridden blood
polluted deserts and kitchens ~excerpt from poem
I Want To Remember,
2017
Dominican University of California
I Want To Remember, Mariel E. Valerio
The Tuxedo Archives
I want to remember
crawling into bed beside you
the way I remember
reading a poem aloud for the first time. ~excerpt from poem
Tell The Children: No Talking At The Dinner Table,
2017
Dominican University of California
Tell The Children: No Talking At The Dinner Table, Vanessa Leung
The Tuxedo Archives
Tell the children no talking at the dinner table
Ivory chopsticks striked down to sever unfinished
Articulations, into pieces of broken syllables.
All not knowing what malice they had inflicted,
Hurried with their sustenance and scattered
Behind walls. Try to make amends
In uncertain ways. Promise
No talking back, nor back-talking. ~excerpt from poem
108 Double Stitches,
2017
Dominican University of California
108 Double Stitches, Robert D. Johnson
The Tuxedo Archives
So tightly I’m wound,
I recoil when struck.
Compressed like a spring.
I’m constantly fondled,
Examined and lifted on high.
A pale white complexion,
red lines all over my face. ~excerpt from poem
Fellow Traveler,
2017
Dominican University of California
Fellow Traveler, Steve Galiani
The Tuxedo Archives
Gather round, be present!
Listen to words granted me
(presumptuous vessel)
by the muse. ~excerpt from poem
Vocation,
2017
Dominican University of California
Vocation, Steve Galiani
The Tuxedo Archives
daybreak finds me
the freshest of flowers
dew-soaked, opening slowly
to the lighting sky. ~excerpt from poem
We Are Horses,
2017
Dominican University of California
We Are Horses, Aijuana Bifri
The Tuxedo Archives
To read and to write is to breathe and to live and to eat and to drink
to sustain my life
when the pen and the pad and the life you had are put on stage
and on the mic
I need to read I need to write and over and over ~excerpt from poem
The Belly,
2017
Dominican University of California
The Belly, Aijuana Bifri
The Tuxedo Archives
The Star-Spangled Banner plays and I don’t have my hands on my heart
next thing I know, I hear,
“You anti-American immigrant leech
if you don’t like America, why don’t you leave?
if you don’t like America, why don’t you go home?
you’ve talked shit about this country
expressing your pain in this country
aren’t you thankful we serve you in this country?
all you do is take money from this country
you ungrateful...” ~excerpt from poem
Better Than Grey,
2017
Dominican University of California
Better Than Grey, Tanya Tsikanovsky
The Tuxedo Archives
Our words slide off our tongues like marbles on wet floors,
too wet to stop gliding
And we soak up our thoughts like sponges,
wringing out the water we both now taste ~excerpt from poem
