Jonathan Andrew Pérez
Bio: Jonathan Andrew Pérez, Esq. has published poetry at a number of journals and in collections including in: Poetry Magazine, Ovenbird Poetry, K' in, Waxing & Waning, The Minnesota Review, Into the Void’s We Are Antifa Anthology, Allegory Ridge, Frontier Poetry, [PANK]’s Latinx Lit Celebration Issue, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Coffin Bell Journal, Guesthouse, Split Lip Magazine, Blood Tree Literature, TRACK//FOUR, Dovecote, Collateral, The Bookend’s Review, Hiram, Inklette, Quiddity on NPR, Rise Up Review, River Heron Review, Muse/A Journal, Projector Magazine, Prelude Magazine, and Crack the Spine.Jonathan’s first chapbook, The Cartographer of Crumpled Maps: The Justice Elegies (2020) was published by Finishing Line Press, and his second manuscript, The Diving: Dark was the Night of Justice, won the Burnside Review Poetry Prize and will be published in spring 2021. He is a criminal justice advocate, civil rights lawyer, professor, and has a day job as a trial attorney.
Social Media Handles- Twitter: hilliconjusticeInstagram: hillicon_justiceFacebook: jonathanandrewperez
Social Media Handles- Twitter: hilliconjusticeInstagram: hillicon_justiceFacebook: jonathanandrewperez
Confession
Confession: the Buntings made a living,despite their massive kill-offs. took back rural roads, edges, did not hide in the warnings we left them with
our ancestors machinery did not stammer: witness the plaza filled with signs:no urbanism, no economic downturn, no crop damage.
A species of greed empires, like ladyfingerscaste from the terrible clouds Mid-day, a species of irruptionpeeled in torrential plagues.
We had a mausoleum visitwe left our brushy homey thicket,and in abundance, peeled away the worldto find: the Buntings owned us – not, the other way around.
our ancestors machinery did not stammer: witness the plaza filled with signs:no urbanism, no economic downturn, no crop damage.
A species of greed empires, like ladyfingerscaste from the terrible clouds Mid-day, a species of irruptionpeeled in torrential plagues.
We had a mausoleum visitwe left our brushy homey thicket,and in abundance, peeled away the worldto find: the Buntings owned us – not, the other way around.