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By Dan Vera
This is what is feared:
that flags do not nourish the blood,
that history is not glorious or truthful.
By Jacob Rakovan
The bones cast in the field like seed corn grow nothing,
grow briars in the boarded gas stations
brown stalks ready for the fire.
By Jericho Brown
They said to say goodnight
And not goodbye, unplugged
The TV when it rained. They hid
By Beth Copeland
What do the howling hounds hear that we can't?
The moon sharpens its sword on the Earth's stone.
Palm trees on the shores of the Tigris stand sentinel,
By Patricia Monaghan
Just past dawn in early fall,
a sparrow screamed at me
as I walked into the woods.
By Rachel M. Simon
the name altered from parent's choosing
the threshold of a home
white gloves on the windowsill
By Margaret Rozga
Let there be drums and harps,
piccolos and flutes, violins,
banjos and guitars.
By Daniela Elza
I drink a blood sunset down Cardinal Avenue.
my shoes soaked poppies my mind quiet as
a book with a bomb in its mouth.
By celeste doaks
Tell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure
for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many
before you, some who won, some who lost.
By Jonathan B. Tucker
pardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence