Apogee Journal – Page 109 – A journal of literature and art from the margins.

Celebrate the work of our amazing Issue 05 contributors on Thursday, May 28 at Raw Space in Harlem! An evening of readings featuring Tommy Pico * Tiphanie Yanique * Lisa Ko * Emily Brandt * Charif Shanahan * Caitlin Blanchfield * Marisa Beltramini * t'ai freedom ford

Contributors: Issue 4

Apogee Journal

18 Apr 2015

Issue 04 Masthead Acknowledgements Letter from the Editor by Chris Prioleau Fiction Benton, Revisted by Koa Beck Old Maid by Annie Dewitt I Want Some Seafood Mama by Soleil Ho Poetry In Defense Of Art by Aimee Herman A Common Amnesia by Alex Cuff Sea Psalm by Becca Liu Autoconstrucción & Objet Trouvé by Cristiana Baik Kisekae & Validator by JD Scott Epilogue by Julia Guez Foundation & Determination of Racial Affinity by Kenzie Allen _______ the usual old shoe still lifes in October, birds again & Miniature Odes by Khadijah Queen That Which Scatters and Breaks Apart & Trouble by Ladan Osman Changeling & Damage Path by Mya Green Fruits, 8th grade, freshly emigrated from Mexico by Paco Marquez Kundiman: Hung Justice & The Halo-Halo Men: An Anthem by Patrick Rosal [no subject] by Roberto Montes Mistaken for the Subject of an Obituary Terese Coe Dispatch by Tsitsi Jaji Thread by Victoria Matsui Not the Pine Nuts by Victoria McArtor 3 Poems by Shal Nirvanus Non-Fiction In the Waiting Line by Gyasi Bing nation building/women’s political identity: the border’s apocalyptic mater-futurity by José Felipe Alvergue Seams by Migueltzinta Cah Mai Solís Pino The City is in...

Fiction

Forgotten Conversation

Apogee Journal

10 Apr 2015

Forgotten Conversation José Angel Araguz I remember starting the book I borrowed–– stole–– a year earlier, since it was around me more than she was. Back then, I had the nights before me to call and call. 3AM, the back of my throat thick and smoke hollow, my tongue lingering over my R’s: Querrrida, sorry to call late, I’m here, one hundred three perrrrrcent chulo, you should call me. I have your Sandra Cisneros book, y como ella, I want you, juntito a mi. When she didn’t answer, I’d flip through the pages and marvel at the smell of cinnamon. I’d imagine an altar––perhaps candles and photographs around a night stand–– her asleep, her son with the spiked collar and black boots replacing her black nail polish. Back then, I had the nights before me full of perhaps. I would hold the book for hours, determined to get into it, the heart of a Mexican woman. Cisneros would’ve done it differently. She’d have a cigar and call herself Daddy. Her black hair would shine like plums in the moonlight as she prayed, unlike me, for something deeper than forgiveness. If given a second chance, she’d get it right...

Apogee Issue 05 Launch!

Contributors: Issue 4

Forgotten Conversation

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