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About this poet

Edwin Torres is a bilingual, New York-based poet who's a self-proclaimed "lingualisualist" whose work is "rooted in the languages of sight and sound.” He is the author of multiple books of poetry, including Ameriscopia (University of Arizona Press, 2014), One Night: Poems for the Sleepy (Red Glass Books, 2012), and Yes Thing No Thing (Roof Books, 2010), among others.

He is the recipient of poetry fellowships from the DIA Foundation, the Foundation for Contemporary Performance Art, the Kimmel Arts Center, and the New York Foundation of the Arts, among others, and has performed his poems worldwide.

In Each Look Our Years

that’s it
that I walked into the cafe
and in the noise and crowd
we met

and that I saw
what it was I’d been
in what it was
I saw

that in our skin
in the decade of our skin
is what began
before we knew

and that time before
with this time now
is nothing
waiting to start again

Copyright © 2007 by Edwin Torres. “In Each Look Our Years” was originally published in In the Function of External Circumstances (Nightboat Books, 2007). Reprinted with permission of the author.

Copyright © 2007 by Edwin Torres. “In Each Look Our Years” was originally published in In the Function of External Circumstances (Nightboat Books, 2007). Reprinted with permission of the author.

Edwin Torres

Edwin Torres

Edwin Torres is a bilingual, New York-based poet who's a self-proclaimed "lingualisualist" whose work is "rooted in the languages of sight and sound.” He is the author of multiple books of poetry, including Ameriscopia (University of Arizona Press, 2014), One Night: Poems for the Sleepy (Red Glass Books, 2012), and Yes Thing No Thing (Roof Books, 2010), among others.

by this poet

poem

Forever the mighty maze inflicts unchangement
a sly wander from the course unchosen.
If once this could have been what reflected continue
what exposed go, what gave most high staring
its relentless give, which all we wish, was a stay of let.
If once this breath-bomb staggered
to show

poem

I am the guest of a prince. I stay at his palace and share my room with two other talents. The three of us are unique and in demand. We are each 10 stories tall. We do what we do and what no one else does. Our limbs are a hike, folding path over glory. I wake up one morning and look out the window. An ocean has

poem

The man, the woman, the dog, the ball.
The black man, the white woman, the black dog, the red ball.
Not once did I mention
the relationship between the man and the dog.

Never the lover, the ball. Nor the woman kiss
the man before the ball returned by dog.
Nor did I bother with waves,