Ángel Garcia


Ángel Garcia (?-present) is currently a creative writing PhD student at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. He received his BA in Interdisciplinary Studies from the University of Redlands and an MFA from the University of California, Riverside. He is the author of Teeth Never Sleep and the cofounder of the nonprofit organization Gente Organizada. A Latinx poet, Garcia is the recipient of the CantoMundo Poetry Prize. Source


Six years I won’t love a woman. I don’t let myself. I sit, instead, once a week in a circle of mostly men and attempt to name the wild beasts running through my blood. Years ago, I threw the boy I once was in the cage. Locked the cage door behind me. Watched what happened when the feeding began. The snarl and bark, an appetite whetted, and wanting first to eat my teeth. 


I don’t know who I am without fist or knuckle. I am no one without the bottle and what it brings in the blood. I wander the streets looking for what will sate me. Wait, patiently, for what comes walking my way. When I finally love someone, I am only prey. When she touches me, I am a charm of finches, a flight of swallows, afraid of the overhead shadow. My body is a herd jumping back from the river’s edge, afraid of what breathes in muddy waters. I pray I won’t let loose what lurks inside. The beasts are hungry for my return: the king of animalia. 





Literary Movements:


Anthology Years:



Body & Body Image

Health & Illness

Literary Devices:


an expression designed to call something to mind without mentioning it explicitly; an indirect or passing reference

Extended Metaphor

a metaphor that extends through several lines or even an entire poem


the attribution of human qualities to a non-human thing