Nick Vasquez
Poet, flamenco player, and hiker, Nick Vasquez lives in the liminal space between redwood forest and urban civilization in northern California. He is a reader at Frontier Poetry, and the founder and lead editor of Grey Hands Literary Magazine, a writing magazine and writing mentorship program for foster youth. His poems have been published in WildSounds, Toyon Literary Magazine, and The Write Launch. He enjoys baking, waltz dancing, and giving ear scratches to his cat.
“Nocturne,” “Flint Ridge Overlooking the Klamath River,” and “Aubade for Lisa”
The night is a black dress
draped over the arms of a couch, she whispers
stars plucked like cherry blossoms.
A smokey hush fills the room
draped over the arms of a couch, she whispers
stars plucked like cherry blossoms.
A smokey hush fills the room
Poetry
“Duncan’s Point Along Highway 1,” “A Poem Without Poetry,” and “Nightfall”
I.
Purple delosperma frozen on stone cliffs
windswept granite.
Permanent calligraphy on blue canvas
only tides change.
II.
Carved into a driftwood bench
three names now forgotten.
Purple delosperma frozen on stone cliffs
windswept granite.
Permanent calligraphy on blue canvas
only tides change.
II.
Carved into a driftwood bench
three names now forgotten.
Poetry
Issue 67, November 2022
Issues Archive
Nick Vasquez
Poet, flamenco player, and hiker, Nick Vasquez lives in the liminal space between redwood forest and urban civilization in northern California. He is a reader at Frontier Poetry, and the founder and lead editor of Grey Hands Literary Magazine, a writing magazine and writing mentorship program for foster youth. His poems have been published in WildSounds, Toyon Literary Magazine, and The Write Launch. He enjoys baking, waltz dancing, and giving ear scratches to his cat.
“Nocturne,” “Flint Ridge Overlooking the Klamath River,” and “Aubade for Lisa”
The night is a black dress
draped over the arms of a couch, she whispers
stars plucked like cherry blossoms.
A smokey hush fills the room
draped over the arms of a couch, she whispers
stars plucked like cherry blossoms.
A smokey hush fills the room
Poetry
“Duncan’s Point Along Highway 1,” “A Poem Without Poetry,” and “Nightfall”
I.
Purple delosperma frozen on stone cliffs
windswept granite.
Permanent calligraphy on blue canvas
only tides change.
II.
Carved into a driftwood bench
three names now forgotten.
Purple delosperma frozen on stone cliffs
windswept granite.
Permanent calligraphy on blue canvas
only tides change.
II.
Carved into a driftwood bench
three names now forgotten.
Poetry
Issue 67, November 2022
Issues Archive