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Cameron Awkward-Rich is what your father calls you now. Yes, you know
your father loves you
but each time he will not name you
you feel a hole
Majda Gama I wanted to be Her Kind, to go out a hennaed hand-
maiden, sneak across the rooftops of Jeddah dome-by-dome,
until I reached the coastline of the eternal bride.
Gwen Nell Westerman Our elders say
the universe is a
Anthony Moll We’re looking for that old revolutionary road again
a poet said we’d meet where the grass grows uphill.
I couldn’t think of a better way to describe America
torch in one hand, scrolling through her smart phone with the other
Evie Shockley can i deduce the nature of humanity from the relationship of american and multinational pharmaceutical corporations to african women with hiv?
Everett Hoagland Architect of icebergs, snowflakes,
crystals, rainbows, sand grains, dust motes, atoms.
Mason whose tools are glaciers, rain, rivers, ocean.
Chemist who made blood
Deborah A. Miranda Wife and dogs have gone to bed.
I sit here with the front door open.
Crickets sing patiently, a long lullaby
in lazy harmony. Rain falls
Tanya Paperny click on a live stream
of a memorial event
to commemorate victims
of Soviet terror
Mai Der Vang Concerning our hollow breasts,
Lice factions multiplying in our hair.
Concerning our unused stomachs,
Molars waiting to chew, taste buds
Kim Marshall We rush toward change, ask:
do you love me?