Skip to Content
Search Results
Imani Davis

color theory

By Imani Davis a political statement walks into an art classroom. it could be the walls, or her bones, either way
some white structure will soon betray her with its crumbling.
Purvi Shah

Saraswati praises your name even when you have no choice

By Purvi Shah You had a name no one
could hold between their
teeth. So they pronounced
Purvi Shah

Shooting for the Sky

By Purvi Shah Under sky massaged by sun, from a comfortable chair, I watch
the rain stroke a myrtle tree. Naked
rain, my father says. Naked,
Kaveh Akbar

Do You Speak Persian?

By Kaveh Akbar Some days we can see Venus in mid-afternoon. Then at night, stars
separated by billions of miles, light travelling years
to die in the back of an eye.
Dunya Mikhail


By Dunya Mikhail Our clay tablets are cracked
Scattered, like us, are the Sumerian letters
“Freedom” is inscribed this way:
Kathy Engel

Ode To What We Make

By Kathy Engel Praise the words and what
defies words, the mamas and
fathers, all the beloveds
Jen Hofer


By Jen Hofer what dateless body what we exacted or nixed or hexed in the eternal present of not being able to – what not being able to not be considered garbage or trashed by the bag
Luis Alberto Ambroggio


By Luis Alberto Ambroggio Poetry might never have seen
that categorical word,
but in its charged belligerence
of emotions and in its profound determination,
Jeanann Verlee

Grease & Salt

By Jeanann Verlee I finish a small hot plate of grease & salt, & push the scraped-clean plate across the counter for someone else to scrub / this, I say I have paid for but it doesn't fit
Holly Karapetkova

Song of the Exiles

By Holly Karapetkova There never was a garden
only a leaving:
miles and miles
of footprints in the dirt.
Page 2 of 11 pages