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By Aaron Kreuter
We put in at the edge of the tailings pond,
our canoe loaded with gear and food
to take us on the four-day loop trip,
our nylon tent and stainless steel pots.
By Peter Cook and Kenny Lerner
Need, desperate need, eagle-taloned need
is a pumping drill. The oil sloshes
to the brim. The lid slams and it’s a tanker
spewing smoke. It burps and hisses
By Ross Gay
Is that Eric Garner worked
for some time for the Parks and Rec.
Horticultural Department, which means,
perhaps, that with his very large hands,
By Kim Roberts
Oysters may look to us
like wet floppy tongues,
but there’s no licking.
There’s no touching.
By Beth Spencer
In the atrium of the principal church
in a certain Irish city
it is said a girl can find beneath a bench
among the tea roses the name of an abortionist.
By Karen Skolfield
Balloon, then papier mâché.
Gray paint, blue and turquoise, green,
a clouded world with fishing line attached
By Allison Adelle Hedge Coke
In a room facing chimneys
over the place Nancy Morejón rests
between sleeps lining free lines
she whispers to hearing DC:
By Sam Taylor
And someone in a field found an old car
from the year black with beetles, eaten like lace,
and the sky fell into it, a private thing.
And everyone had a kitchen or a fold-out bed
By Joseph O. Legaspi
Amphibians live in both.
Immigrants leave their land,
hardening in the sea.
Out of water.
By Wendell Berry
We forget the land we stand on
and live from. We set ourselves
free in an economy founded
on nothing, on greed verified