My cousin kept me and his little brother saved me from our uncle’s pit bull, then spent seven years in prison for his set. Every other word he said was blood. *** Uncle Nuggie showed us how to make a BB rattle inside a squirrel. Two small holes, enter […]
Tell them not to go to the banks alone. Tell them where they can drink without watching over their shoulders. Tell them drowning is third on your list of concerns. First is lie down, second, come here. Even the water I was baptized in isn’t safe. I knew […]
My Grandmother’s body lives under an ash tree on an old church ground, her spirit can be seen making a maple tree’s shadow jealous. The church’s bricks absorb the choir’s songs, they flake Holy Ghost, If Trouble Don’t Come Today. I visit, fall on my knees, ask her how she doing? How long […]
Tyree Daye talks about how he was introduced to poetry.
Tyree Daye talks about reading his poems aloud when he writes.
triangles of blue on my face: the fins of a salmon dying between two rocks // light is my grandmother closing her hands pleading in air thicker near the water // I’m a doe in my mother’s house the water covering my hind legs completely I drink from the deep end […]
I was the unbroken horse of that town, slept standing up, held on to the breeze like wildflowers. I kept caterpillars in jars, my mama let them go, I figured they just disappeared. There are moments you can hear God say things soft-spoken, the sun settling between thin pines. Collected crickets in 2 liter bottles, […]
Tyree Daye is a poet from Youngsville, North Carolina. He is the winner of the 2017 APR/Honickman First Book Prize for his book River Hymns (American Poetry Review, 2017). Daye is a 2017 Ruth Lilly Finalist and Cave Canem fellow and longtime member of the editorial staff at Raleigh Review. He received his MFA in […]