Migrant Earth
By Deema K. ShehabiI could tell you that listening is made for the ashen sky,
and instead of the muezzin's voice, which lingers
like weeping at dawn,
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Deema K. ShehabiI could tell you that listening is made for the ashen sky,
and instead of the muezzin's voice, which lingers
like weeping at dawn,
By Susan BrennanWe stand at the Capitol
seized in snapshots
of curious tourists
By Ching-In ChenThe teacher straightbacked,
faced me off, her eyes.
My face in the cleave of
her shoulder, my bones
By Reginald Harriswalk long enough
with a pebble in your shoe
and walking with a pebble becomes
normal
By Rashida James-Saadiyawe scatter
dodge words that rip into flesh
hide from clenched fist
By Marie-Elizabeth MaliPulling out of Union Square station, the subway
sounds the first three notes of There's a place for us,
somewhere a place for us. A woman sits on me, shoves
By Yvette Neisser MorenoSo this is how they decided to take him—
at the end of his life,
his frame shrunken, his wild rambling days over
By Jose PaduaI give to you a portrait of America in trash.
I give it to you with love and respect, America:
mountains of beer cans crumpled, plastic figures
By Jeff GundyA good day for late wildflowers--daisies and burrs
leaned out into the path for a better view, brilliant
blue somethings with tiny blooms on tall stalks.
By Heather DavisThe lights in your home channel 29 men, their
soot stained clothes, last breaths, crystalline sweat
let loose on black rock