Shall I compare thee to this land, enshrined, And thus risk bleak and unintended blame When nature’s lovely gifts, by gods designed, Hide blemishes that bring the match to shame?    

She loves you with a burning flame but spending passion quickly she jilts you just the same.

For what little it’s worth now, we might as well be a boatful of grasses beached on a highway: not the first time we’d have met each other in the wrong

The sign flickers, half-lit, as if undecided. Inside, a man replaces springs no one takes time to save.

The James Webb found the furthest galaxy, again. The polar ice caps are dripping at my door. I'm waiting for the war in my head to begin

April, here I drill. Turning the heavy clay-rich soil, I include hardware store compost bags. I encircle heirloom tomatoes, Cherokee Purple and Green Zebra, with the wire cage.

Do you think of that morning? The two of us half-drunk from life and the night, believing the world would always embrace us...

The wind this morning romped through the willow oak trees, kicked their brown-sword leaves back and forth across the grass...

A gentle end at life’s last night is a blessing worthy of embrace. Why rage at the dying of the light?

I would give a year to walk in your shoes one week-- on Sunday I would flex my muscles at the gym, walk naked proudly through the others in the locker room...

It is a common thing to see cattle or camels walking or sleeping in the middle of the street...

A completed Long-term artistic project examining the city of Baku

Eighteen months. Time to watch a riverbank used as a landfill slowly trashform...

The bones remember more than flesh allows: Each rib a record of a whispered past,

I vowed to you I would stay wild knowing you loved my teeth  except when they chased other flesh

The afternoon we met, she joked about being a narcissist. It was one of the qualities that attracted me to her—a woman unaccompanied by the threat of permanence.

This language can't find anything that rhymes with orange.

He’s smaller than I expected. They always are. The stillness shrinks them. The room smells like lilies and furniture polish.

By Ángel Ruby Vásquez Angel Ruby Vasquez is a writer, actor, filmmaker, and poet-storyteller dedicated to the craft of inspirational creative writing. His work spans film, radio, fashion media, and education. He has worked as a camera assistant, public radio announcer, media director, educational facilitator, and substitute teacher.   Angel Ruby Vasquez es escritor, actor, cineasta y poeta-narrador, dedicado al arte de la escritura creativa inspiradora. Su trabajo abarca el c

Like a dry fallen leaf blown by