My mother carries an entire biography in the palms of  two small hands, each wrinkle deep  and rich with story. I listen as I  hold them in mine. Sometimes,  when I bring them close to my ear, songs of moments long forgotten ring out  into the space between us. From the sound of her bike […]

Washed Away.  Arthur Schopenhauer said: “After your death you will be what you were before your birth“. When we think of birth, we often forget to remember death. The joy of seeing new life or the prospect of new beginnings and opportunities are seldom marred by the inevitability of the end; death. Yet, the possibility […]

I listened (Nirvana) To rest on the shores of Nirvana You must freeze your flow Cut connections to the current And sift through your skin Because buried in you Is the desire to drown,  It’s better if you stab your eyes To prepare for never-ending night And if you opt for vision Don’t confuse sheets […]

Cento from “Ideology”, “I WAKE UP CURLED UP IN A C.D. WRIGHT POEM”, “Mother of All Balms”, and “Reading Rilke at Lake Mendota, Wisconsin” by Aria Aber & Where Reasons End by Yiyun Li The dead have the advantage of the leavers; those left behind have to have something to hold on to. I rearranged a vase […]

The counselor urged us to talk.  “It’s a chance for you to tell your story.” This wasn’t a story to me. It was my life and I was still living.  I sat in the circle with other damaged people. We listened to talk about what was wrong with us and how we could save ourselves. […]

 Wheels  I remember feeling,  long ago,  some of that  derisory  teenage anguish—  as if I fell to my feet,  warlike music all around.  Now I’m in the car,  my arm  outstretched, in the blustery weather,  remarkably euphoric  and roaring into downtown,  torn apart and put back together  then torn apart again and hollowed out—  shifting, […]

DAY DRINK When I step on the anthill, the grains roll across my foot with all the grace of fine desert sand. I find a flatness when I expect burn—remembering the fire ants back home, how they climbed up my little legs. I have carried that bite and itch with me forever. In my thick […]

I think sometimes about my old customers. The ones who died young.  There were so many of them: painters, roofers,  landscapers, handymen. Salts of the earth.  Some had been coming into my shop for decades, always with the sense  that it would go on like that forever,  the two of us – shopkeeper and customer – […]

My name is Bosco Maltez. I’m an artist, poet, photographer born and raised in South Central Los Angeles. My artwork focuses on the city I was raised in as well as “lines,” in my poems and my photography, which represent paths that we take that lead us to where we are meant to be. This […]