Stewing
By DaMaris B. HillI dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By DaMaris B. HillI dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.
By Quraysh Ali Lansanai've heard tell of a hustle
in brooklyn where clever folks
throw themselves in front of cars
By Lauryn NesbittAs long as you wake up everyday you should have
no reason to complain, right
i guess if i'm still breathing then i'm not really
By Camille T. DungyThe poet's hands degenerate until her cup is too heavy.
You are not required to understand.
This is not the year for understanding.
By Marilyn NelsonSomebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
By Antoinette BrimLet the moon untangle itself
from the clothesline, as coming daylight
diminishes its lamp to memory.
By Nahshon CookThen he explained
how the Buddha
instructed us
to reflect on the body
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