about

Araguz 2019 2 300dpi

José Angel Araguz is a CantoMundo fellow and the author of seven chapbooks as well as the collections Everything We Think We Hear, Small Fires, Until We Are Level Again, and, most recently, An Empty Pot’s Darkness. His poems, creative nonfiction, and reviews have appeared in Crab Creek Review, Prairie Schooner, New South, Poetry International, and The Bind. Born and raised in Corpus Christi, Texas, he runs the poetry blog The Friday Influence and composes erasure poems on the Instagram account @poetryamano. A faculty member in Pine Manor College’s Solstice Low-Residency MFA program, he also reads for the journal Right Hand Pointing and serves as a co-editor of Airlie Press. With an MFA from New York University and a PhD from the University of Cincinnati, José is an Assistant Professor of English at Suffolk University in Boston where he also serves as Editor-in-Chief of Salamander Magazine.

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Questions and correspondence are welcome at: thefridayinfluence@gmail.com

Find him on:

Twitter: @JoseAraguz
Instagram: poetryamano
Author Central page here.
Goodreads author page here.
Venmo: @Jose-Araguz-1

Read “Gloves” featured in Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry.
Read “Blade” Academy of American Poets Graduate Poetry Prize winner.
Read a review of Until We Are Level Again at Latino Book Review.
Check out the free digital chapbooks The Book of Flight ,  Naos: an introduction & Naos: Crumbs.

 

22 thoughts on “about

  1. I read your work in The Inflectionist Review issue 3. The poem ‘First Night’ reminded me of a poem called ‘A Baby’ by a Korean poet called Shin Kyong-Nim. That reaching back to a ‘hidden’ period of development, is a theme he uses too, it is the learning of a word that banishes the mystery for the baby in his poem.
    I am not suggesting you have plagiarized him I hope you understand. I write poetry myself, i would be pleased if you found time to read some of it.

      1. Actually found it via Google books: Along with the kindred note you spoke of with my poem and its interaction with the act of language, I love the time travel in the poem, how, section by section, something big changes, until the “he” is himself something “piled up” with knowledge and a specific kind of regret. Thanks!

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