Poetry by Sam Antony Soza

an Ovillejo
             By Sam Antony Soza

diphthong escapes pit of despair?

lowing prayer


borne ended life touch ablated?



doctor gnashes red monkeys clawed?

to a deaf God


Lord of lords - ears, eyes, mouth maraud

mine. not mine: wire-faced motherhood

cut your meat. for you’ve understood

lowing prayer isolated to a deaf god



“a little anniversary”

             By Sam Antony Soza


twenty fifty nine: i’ll truly be able to say

i wasn’t less than i am


seventy five years of age, i’ll send out cards:

mathematically, i died


exactly thirty six years and ten days ago.

(from the time of this penning)


on what day will they say about me: “never

for as long as we've known”?


one year down. and in a further thirteen thousand

one hundred forty nine days


i’ll wake up and open the blinds to say:

i wasn’t less than i am


and it will be true.




             By Sam Antony Soza


maybe our earth could be flat,

bicuspid and loping throat-ward

to forget last swords;


plows shared, then returned

to human hands; creatures

groaning rather in partnership


as we go up to search the stars, willing

one       single       cell,

while outside the giant magellan


a viscacha rustles chilean saltgrass —

warm, blooded, cells uncountable sand;

we were never alone.

- Sam Antony Soza is a latinx graphic designer born in Roswell, NM, and raising two beautiful children in Columbus, OH. They are a recovering Army veteran, a writer, a nerd, a Christian, and so on. Right now they are probably driving around listening to angry punk rock and contemplating ways to live a more consistent life ethic.

Copyright©2023 By Sam Antony Soza. All Rights Reserved.