R.A. Villanueva lives in Brooklyn. A finalist for the Beatrice Hawley Award and the Alice James Books/Kundiman Poetry Prize, his writing has appeared in Gulf Coast, AGNI, Virginia Quarterly Review, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, DIAGRAM, Bellevue Literary Review, and elsewhere.
R.A. Villanueva: Confluences
Because you will not talk about your mother’s hands or describe further the meat of her left thumb almost gone as if eaten down to the bone, and because it is too early yet to imagine your mother’s breast brushed with prep gauze, held in some nameless palm, an attendant knuckle There to mark just […]
R.A. Villanueva: As the river crests, mud-rich with forgotten things
Colors this summer Raritan carries: of this flailing, flaring New Jersey sunset of the burnt-ends of cigarettes as they and gravity then the river kiss Red’s surge toward night- fall: a dark diastole rich with the blood of pigeons, worms, catfish—a mercury blood, heavy with gas This orange Raritan This drunk, Dutch princess flanked as if by knights: trunks bent, leadened […]