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Gretchen Primack and there was a dog, precisely the colors of autumn,
asleep between two trunks by the trail.
But it was a coyote, paws pink
Pablo Miguel Martinez the math of dance
the math of breath
counting 4 / 4
Claudia Rankine Mahalia Jackson is a genius. Or Mahalia Jackson has genius. The man I am with is trying to make a distinction. I am uncomfortable with his need to make this distinction because his inquiry begins to approach subtle shades of racism, classism, or sexism. It is hard to know which.
Anne Waldman the aquarium deserted now,
this is the song at dusk I write in the notebook:
Wang Ping I'm not a singer, but please
let me sing of the peacemakers
on the streets and internet, your candles
Yusef Komunyakaa Thanks for the tree
between me & a sniper's bullet.
I don't know what made the grass
Gretchen Primack This is the press of the earth. One star hanging
there, honking like a goose. The lake
a smudge of black juice, the hill a draped
Sam Hamill Half broken on that smoky night,
hunched over sake in a serviceman's dive
somewhere in Naha, Okinawa
Patricia Monaghan Just past dawn in early fall,
a sparrow screamed at me
as I walked into the woods.
Pages Matam Ma Mere n'a Jamais eu des ailes
My momma never had wings
But she could tap dance on hurricanes