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Patrick Rosal The teacher can’t hear the children
over all this monsoon racket,
all the zillion spoons whacking
the rusty roofs, all the wicked tin streams
flipping full-grown bucks off their hooves.
Everett Hoagland Architect of icebergs, snowflakes,
crystals, rainbows, sand grains, dust motes, atoms.
Mason whose tools are glaciers, rain, rivers, ocean.
Chemist who made blood
Deborah A. Miranda Wife and dogs have gone to bed.
I sit here with the front door open.
Crickets sing patiently, a long lullaby
in lazy harmony. Rain falls
Kim Marshall We rush toward change, ask:
do you love me?
Terisa Siagatonu The evening news helicopters compete for the best camera angle
above the water, fighting to find anything worthy of coverage.
A floating high chief. A baby’s arm flattened by a coconut tree. Anything.
Even the Titanic was enormous enough to leave remnants of itself
Sherwin Bitsui Father's dying ceased
when he refunded this ours
for fused hands plaster-coated
Paul Tran Desert born. Wild
As corn. Dry
Bitch. Itchy clit.
John James In Georgetown, IN, the steel projector reels.
The desert stretches blankly before us, a red
plain constellated with rows of dry mesquite.
Dan Vera A is for apple.
B is for banana – treasure fruit of the tropics
which replaced the apple on the breakfast table of Victorian America.
C is for Carmen Miranda smiling
Sonia Sanchez There are women sailing the sky
I walk between them
They who wear silk, muslin and burlap skins touching mine
They who dance between urine and violets