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Zeina Hashem Beck This entry is in video format.
Sholeh Wolpé Last night a sparrow flew into my house,
crashed against the skylight and died:
I want to write a love song.
Amal Al-Jubouri —My solitude, to which I always returned
City that kept my secret religion in her libraries
I came back to rest my head on her shoulder
and with just one look, she saw how tired I was
Darrel Alejandro Holnes In the film, both parents are Mexicans as white as
a Gitano’s bolero sung by an indigena accompanied by the Moor’s guitar
bleached by this American continent’s celluloid in 1948
when in America the world’s colors were polarized into black & blanco.
Regie Cabico I get to edit penis poems and feel like Michelangelo
Making masterpieces of what is private and unsculpted
Beneath the writing table
All I have to say is My penis is…
Fady Joudah Does consciousness exist only when
you name it? Was the double helix a
stranger, the nucleus the first brain?
I feel therefore I am. This is more
Heidi Andrea Restrepo Rhodes Wake. Wake.
These the nights we sing. These the folds,
unborn reverie, ambition marbled mud & shine,
raging anthem born like diamonds out darkest ash & rain
Jan Beatty I see you’re publishing:
straightman/straightman/white white white how
Are you kidding me?
Mahogany L. Browne & then the poet became G_D/like
just’a rolling his tongue everywhere
like G O D must’ve
when the earth got birth(ed) & even
Rebecca Black Sergio has ink-pot eyes, girlish wrists.
He draws superheroes extremely well—
Avengers, Wolfman, El Toro Rojo,