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Nancy Morejón

Nueva fábula de albañil / The New Fable of the Bricklayer

By Nancy Morejón Entre arena y gravilla,
mezcla y paleta,
va transcurriendo su vida
Quincy Troupe

The Hours Fly Quick

By Quincy Troupe The hours fly quick on wings of clipped winds
like nonsense blown from mouths of hot air—
people—including my own—form syllables, suds
Toni Asante Lightfoot

What The Liberal White Woman Didn’t Know

By Toni Asante Lightfoot If you came to see Moms put your clothes in the hamper
If you won’t do that then you best well scamper
Moms Mabley at the Michigan Womyn’s Festival
Mark Nowak


By Mark Nowak They took me right down
the hill, and
pulled up in front
Francisco Aragón


By Francisco Aragón Despite the absent head (whose eyes

were the green of apples)
Natalie Illum

IV. Wheel Spinning

By Natalie Illum The first time I saw these activists turned
acrobats, I was immobilized as they arched
through hoops, twisting like DNA.
Wang Ping

Solstice in Lhasa

By Wang Ping What more can you say
Nomad daughter of glaciers?
City has bleached the sun from your face
Chris Abani

The New Religion

By Chris Abani The body is a nation I have never known.
The pure joy of air: the moment between leaping
from a cliff into the wall of blue below
A.B. Spellman

from Things I Don’t Miss From My Youth

By A.B. Spellman florene barco moved
to philadelphia &
on a visit home
Patricia Smith


By Patricia Smith The storm left a wound seeping,
a boulevard yawning, some
memories fractured
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