Mario Duarte
Mario Duarte is a Senior Academic Advisor at the University of Iowa and a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His poems and short stories have appeared in aaduna, Chicago Literati, Hinchas de Poesía, Huizache, Lunch Ticket, Pank, RavensPerch, Rigorous, Storyscape, and Typishly.
“I Am Not My Father’s Dream,” “Song Dust,” and “Ricardo from his Adobe Says”
counting smoke plumes
on the mesa horizon
while yucca spire buds
remain un-blossomed.
Between rocks guarding
the front door, a sunflower
stalk bends. I welt too.
Yellow flames wake the air.
on the mesa horizon
while yucca spire buds
remain un-blossomed.
Between rocks guarding
the front door, a sunflower
stalk bends. I welt too.
Yellow flames wake the air.
Poetry
Issue 74, June 2023
“El Tiempo Pasado,” “To the Double Flower of Spring” and “I was a Jesus Impersonator”
Leaving Work
The shrubs are flush—branches scarlet
by the red brick dormitory.
Rolling past Hickory Hill park
leaves blaze into miniature suns.
At Home
In our backyard, the swing set is
as empty as a hollow gourd,
The shrubs are flush—branches scarlet
by the red brick dormitory.
Rolling past Hickory Hill park
leaves blaze into miniature suns.
At Home
In our backyard, the swing set is
as empty as a hollow gourd,
Poetry
Issue 40, August 2020
“Ashes and Tears,” “Walking Daffodil (Midnight in Poet City)” and “Reanimation”
She anoints discontented worlds
her claws preening her feathers,
with soft snores tinged by night-light
Enchanted by Mexican seeds,
she exerts vulnerable chirps
from a closed, sharp-slicing beak
her claws preening her feathers,
with soft snores tinged by night-light
Enchanted by Mexican seeds,
she exerts vulnerable chirps
from a closed, sharp-slicing beak
Poetry
Issue 31, November 2019
Mario Duarte
Mario Duarte is a Senior Academic Advisor at the University of Iowa and a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His poems and short stories have appeared in aaduna, Chicago Literati, Hinchas de Poesía, Huizache, Lunch Ticket, Pank, RavensPerch, Rigorous, Storyscape, and Typishly.
“I Am Not My Father’s Dream,” “Song Dust,” and “Ricardo from his Adobe Says”
counting smoke plumes
on the mesa horizon
while yucca spire buds
remain un-blossomed.
Between rocks guarding
the front door, a sunflower
stalk bends. I welt too.
Yellow flames wake the air.
on the mesa horizon
while yucca spire buds
remain un-blossomed.
Between rocks guarding
the front door, a sunflower
stalk bends. I welt too.
Yellow flames wake the air.
Poetry
Issue 74, June 2023
“El Tiempo Pasado,” “To the Double Flower of Spring” and “I was a Jesus Impersonator”
Leaving Work
The shrubs are flush—branches scarlet
by the red brick dormitory.
Rolling past Hickory Hill park
leaves blaze into miniature suns.
At Home
In our backyard, the swing set is
as empty as a hollow gourd,
The shrubs are flush—branches scarlet
by the red brick dormitory.
Rolling past Hickory Hill park
leaves blaze into miniature suns.
At Home
In our backyard, the swing set is
as empty as a hollow gourd,
Poetry
Issue 40, August 2020
“Ashes and Tears,” “Walking Daffodil (Midnight in Poet City)” and “Reanimation”
She anoints discontented worlds
her claws preening her feathers,
with soft snores tinged by night-light
Enchanted by Mexican seeds,
she exerts vulnerable chirps
from a closed, sharp-slicing beak
her claws preening her feathers,
with soft snores tinged by night-light
Enchanted by Mexican seeds,
she exerts vulnerable chirps
from a closed, sharp-slicing beak
Poetry
Issue 31, November 2019