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Melissa Tuckey Unable to sleep,
the blankets wrapped in waves, waves
as tall as dreams,
the dream world trying to make sense
Ruth Irupé Sanabria My grandfather asked me: could I remember
him, the park, the birds, the bread?
I’ll be dying soon, he said.
Lauren Camp The soup cooks for an hour while vultures and buzzards pluck the market.
My father wipes his forehead with a white cloth.
Once, each day began with khubz and samoon
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.
Martha Collins Martha Collins performs the poem "On the Other Side" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Holly Karapetkova There never was a garden
only a leaving:
miles and miles
of footprints in the dirt.
Marcos L. Martínez There are immeasurable ways to count days: on the median the sunflower tracks UV streams: east to west then sleep; an acorn gets weeded out of the common area ‘til another live oak drobs a bomb then sprouts till, yanked away again;