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By Meg Eden
I look for a man's hand inside
the folds of my purse, and find
a pattern that recalls a finger print, the way
By Camille T. Dungy
The poet's hands degenerate until her cup is too heavy.
You are not required to understand.
This is not the year for understanding.
By Marilyn Nelson
Somebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
By Antoinette Brim
Let the moon untangle itself
from the clothesline, as coming daylight
diminishes its lamp to memory.
By Kathleen O'Toole
He arrived first as a student of geology
in the bicentennial year.
By Nahshon Cook
Then he explained
how the Buddha
to reflect on the body
By Alan King
The president of pride's been overthrown
by a coup.
The president of humility shakes his head.
By Rich Villar
lacking a proper entrance
into a poem
about Arizona Senate Bill 1070
By Patricia Spears Jones
And I am full of worry I wrote to a friend
Worry, she replied about what—love, money, health?
All of them, I wrote back. It’s autumn, the air is clear
By Jeff Gundy
A good day for late wildflowers--daisies and burrs
leaned out into the path for a better view, brilliant
blue somethings with tiny blooms on tall stalks.