Clamor –

Mercury, Retrograde

The Hour of the Star is Here


The East Bay Review –



The Potomac  –

The Open Dishwasher

Sick Talk


Jai-Alai Magazine 

Sunday 3

Sunday 4


Empty Mirror Books-

The Stories of Bedtime

Normal Things

The Cows


Red Savina Review  –


Morning Feed

The Suffering Game


Pea River Review  – 

Yellow Tomatoes



Silver Birch Press – 

Oh, Zelda

Said and Done


Smoking Glue Gun Magazine- 



Zócalo Poets – 

La librería que recomendaste

Sí mi patrón

Te lo vi

Ahora se espera


East Coast Ink Magazine – 


Oh, Zelda


Big River Poetry Review –

Espíritu Santo


A Literation Magazine – 


How Others Do It


Elephant Journal –

Bikram Love Triangle


The Furious Gazelle – 

Late Night Poem




CutBank Literary Journal – 

The Woodshop “Where I Work”


Really Systems – 

Another Airport Poem


Aviary Review – 

A Notion of Marriage


Actuary Lit –

Book Review: Herta Muller’s “The Appointment”


Dagda Publishing – 

A Girlfriend for Prufrock

The Napkin Trick

Our Brief Record


Ghost House Review – 

Morning Feed

Soft Landings and Quick Bites


Toasted Cheese Literary Journal – 

The Napkin Trick


Eunoia Review – 


A Girlfriend for Prufrock

The Clothesmaker


The Fat City Review –

Overdue Love Letter


We Drink Because We’re Poets – 

New Computer


VerseWrights – 

A Notion of Marriage

Chew You

Breakfast Meeting

Life Things

Sorry Afterthought

The Feeling of Being Hungover


Yellow Tomatoes

Said and Done


Pilgrims Poems –


Tragedy at Sushi Siam


Kumquat Poetry –

The Clothesmaker

Cuarto de Hotel Moderno

My Nudity in All its Forms

Bathroom Talk

Babies on Planes


Boston Poetry Magazine –


A Girlfriend for Prufrock

The Clothesmaker


The Paperbook Collective – 

Former Head of Security



In late 2014, LA-based Silver Birch Press published “Ides,” an anthology of fifteen poetry chapbooks.  Ana Maria Caballero’s chapbook “Reverse Commute” was included among the fifteen.  This anthology is still available for purchase via Amazon.

Here are a few poems from the book:

poetry writing


The Suffering Game


Mother wins the suffering game

She cares for the sick


Big Brother is the runner up

He pays for the sick and for Mother to live better than sick

Only his Mondays count


Little Brother plays a private suffering game

And is left alone to tend his odds


I lose the suffering game

My baby is a balloon smile and his father

Loves us every day with capable hands


As the loser of the game

I am given a brick to hang from my face


In this small way I help bring life

Something closer to fair


Originally published by Red Savina Review




The Sun Coast


Father does not know he is in Cancelada.


Mother said dinner is fun and the boats are big in Puerto Banús.


We are taking Father to a hospital in Estepona.


Reservations for lunch await in a white restaurant in Mijas.


He fell last night in Ronda.


We must be patient; the doctor lives in Málaga.


A 24-hour pharmacy is open in San Pedro.


The greetings we’d send are ash in Marbella.


Gibraltar is closed anyway.





A Notion of Marriage


Because I am a poet,

I read about things like the center of skin.

About warm bodies coming together in the dark,

and how it can be the meaning of life

when someone gets it right.


And I know I should write about things

like a moving chest and a naked back.

About the coming together of life in the dark,

about our common desire

and the verbs that it took.


And it should be universal,

but personal.

My moving chest, your naked back.

The notion of marriage,

of children, of daily love.

Shrinking rooms

beneath the surface

of different meaning words.


But I don’t see the dark jaw

in the night,

or the soft center of touch spring alive.

There is effort and a plan.

There is marriage,

a shrinking room,

daily love,

and a baby that eats time.


We do not say flesh when we mean sex.

We say, “It’s about right.”

And, “It would be nice.”

We confirm how long it’s been

before we ask one another to get up

and make the bedroom



Originally published by “Aviary Review”



Cover hand-drawn by Miami-based artist Adrian Avila