Is this you? As a journalist, you can create a free Muck Rack account to customize your profile, list your contact preferences, and upload a portfolio of your best work.
Claim your profile
Articles by Joey de Jesus
Everybody Should Be Honored
Thanksgiving brings the Macy’s Parade down Broadway, Labor Day is for the West Indian Day Carnival on Flatbush, Halloween brings costumed processions down a number of neighborhood main streets, and it seems every Sunday sees an ethnic parade to Fifth Avenue. But the third weekend in June brings a parade most unlike the others.
Ancha (Redux)
"my dead work each place" The whistle failed all the stars in my body. I traveled in fear, weeping comely songs without turning to falsehood, took up bone rosary after stretching skins like the aquamarine king; the fresh water I taught was contagious. I sat, spit- shining the pearlescent heads of six hilts, palming the teeth of my kind, decorating an alligator, chest painted slug village—delirium tequila —my dead work each place I pray, is mine an evil heart?
The Only Place in the U.S. with Zero COVID Deaths
Terisa Siagatonu is a queer, Indigenous, Sāmoan poet. A Kundiman Fellow, she lives on unceded Ohlone Territory temporarily known as the Bay Area. sign up for poem-a-day Receive a new poem in your inbox daily Email Address About This Poem “I wrote this poem from the place where most of my poems originate: in the urgent, tender truth of what U.S. imperialism, militarism, and colonization have done to my country, my people, and the world’s imaginings of who Sāmoans (and Pacific Islanders) are.
Acedia Sestina by Rohan Chhetri - Poems
Scent of Plumeria, and the smell of burning. Not one or the other, but both. Destruction, and the blossom. Sweetheart, I'm afraid. That boy with the rifle breaks the catechism in two. And in two. Let me see us whole, beside the sea. My body busy, paying attention to yours. Already we rock each other with our voices. Already we're braiding the invisible cord. That burning hut on T.V. isn’t ours, but could be. My body could be hers, child at dead breast. That blossom of blood and bone could be your face.
P̶R̶O̶M̶E̶S̶A̶
P̶R̶O̶M̶E̶S̶A̶ - and in each for such as fall to board
from VANTABLACK
Ancient viruses entombed in permafrost reanimate in a thaw, but I believe in restorative justice. I work odd-jobs and keep strange hours REM-embering entrapment deoxygenates like microbial reservoir. Dormant morpheme geometrizes into packing ice, that ungodly uniformed authority melting as heat spirals toward the method of measure.
A Poem for Better Times: materia III
Joey De Jesus is a poet and an editor at Apogee Journal. He just moved to Ridgewood, Queens—meaning: he's lived in every borough of NYC aside from Staten Island, and that will never happen. Find him at @dejesussaves and dejesussaves.wordpress.com.
"We've Learned To Call This Normal": Joey De Jesus On QTPOC Erasure In The Wake Of Orlando
The world is still reeling from last week's horrific shooting at Orlando's Pulse nightclub, where 49 people -- almost entirely QTPOC -- were murdered in cold blood. The massacre served to further highlight how important nightlife and safe spaces are in supporting gay culture.
CAMERON ROWLAND 91020000
Walking through Cameron Rowland’s solo exhibition, 91020000, is a sobering experience. Here, the Philadelphia-born artist, who has been exhibiting in galleries for only a few years now, presents a body of work that is as disquieting as it is inspiring. The artist, known for displaying ready-made objects that are obtained through abstruse economic exchanges, showcases work that transcends its own objecthood as commodity, revealing a language (and history) of social and racial hierarchies.
Show More
loading
Actions
Is this you?
As a journalist, you can create a free Muck Rack account to customize your profile, list your contact preferences, and upload a portfolio of your best work.Get in touch with Joey
Contact Joey, search articles and posts on X, monitor coverage, and track replies from one place.
Learn more about Muck Rack