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Penelope Scambly Schott

At the Demonstration

By Penelope Scambly Schott Back when I used to march
in the noon of the green world,
I sang like a crow.
Jane Seitel

Suspension of Disbelief

By Jane Seitel I wake into yet another day of doubt
creeping in as ants through a warped doorjamb.
The morning news brings new atrocities
Melanie Graham

The Price of a Life

By Melanie Graham She appears again, 2-year-old riding her hip,
grief so great he can see through her birkha, past Qualaday,
into the kitchen, his mother nurturing chicken
in popping grease.
Vanessa Huang

Dear End of Terror,

By Vanessa Huang May you rest
In peace
This night
Rich Villar

Always Here

By Rich Villar lacking a proper entrance
into a poem
about Arizona Senate Bill 1070
Patricia Monaghan

Knowing the Bomb So Well

By Patricia Monaghan After the nightly news and four martinis
he quietly begins to draw the inner workings
of the bomb, knowing the explosion needed
Yael Flusberg

Waiting Outside The US Capital Where She Lies In State, Eve Of All Souls

By Yael Flusberg after the first three hours
the temperature dropped to visible breath.
my fall coat no longer protected and my toes
Kenneth Carroll

A People’s Historian

By Kenneth Carroll who will come to tell us what we know
that the king’s clothes are soiled with
the history of our blood and sweat
Gregory Pardlo


By Gregory Pardlo Unfinished, the road turns off the fill
from the gulf coast, tracing the bay, to follow
the inland waterway.
Jody Bolz

Mutanabbi Street

By Jody Bolz Pages flit above the ruined bookstalls.
Blank or dark with words, it doesn’t matter:
paper is as dangerous as ink—as thought.
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