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Fred Joiner a pocket can sometimes be
a kind of prison,
I have never lived in
José B. González my mouth agape for these english words made of stone
their sharpness could split my tongue, but one by one
i’ll use them to build a wall, one by one
Julie Enszer to the place where the idea
of being a pinko commie dyke
first entered her mind,
Aracelis Girmay You, selling roses out of a silver grocery cart
You, in the park, feeding the pigeons
You cheering for the bees
You with cats in your voice in the morning, feeding cats
Danez Smith we who were born into conundrum, came into the world as the world was leaving, children
of the ozone, the oppressed, the overlooked, of obtuse greed, of oil overlords, of oblong
definitions of justice
Dunya Mikhail Our clay tablets are cracked
Scattered, like us, are the Sumerian letters
“Freedom” is inscribed this way:
Minal Hajratwala Your rage is pomegranates spilling open on ice, is the flute’s thin silver seam, is a volcano spitting rivulets of fire to wash clean these corrupt lands.
Martha Collins Martha Collins performs the poem "On the Other Side" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Dominique Christina This poem is in video format.