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By Kathy Engel
write about the killing of Troy Davis or
the years he claimed innocence so many times
the words fell from his mouth like drops of honey.
By Antoinette Brim
Let the moon untangle itself
from the clothesline, as coming daylight
diminishes its lamp to memory.
By Jose Padua
All the out of business auto body shops
on this slow highway, all the abandoned
buildings with peeling paint, the vacant
By Rich Villar
lacking a proper entrance
into a poem
about Arizona Senate Bill 1070
By Sami Miranda
we is not the singular
dotted i, black figure against
a white background.
By Joseph O. Legaspi
slides down into my body, soft
lambs wool, what everybody
in school is wearing, and for me
By Judith Roche
They are only boys, though murderers and rapists.
Bad skin is an issue. Candy bars a treat.
Some are fathers. Few have fathers.
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 Naomi Ayala
And now, where the moon
rose behind here,
three stories loom—
By Alison Roh Park
If it were not so scarred from your accidental
rages—uptown, upstate—I would have rested
on the cinder block of your chest.