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Tarik Dobbs

Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank

By Tarik Dobbs Chorus: Like a bridge over troubled water…
For years, settlers longingly, vertical, build over us, Starbucks has no sinks. Will we go? Lately, the bridge, their throne. When even these are somewhere to watch from, to drop a knee & propose somewhere to feel for a bank.
Noor Ibn Najam

يقبرني to bury me. you take your turn first

By Noor Ibn Najam to become earth’s sugar, to be a seedless
orange offered. to want fruit
to unwind from the concept of sex
Alexis Smithers

[Untitled]

By Alexis Smithers Standing in line, waiting to go into the Library of Congress
a black woman stands two people ahead of me and
a white security guard says to her,
It’s a beautiful day.
Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Prayer for those who run

By Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha I wish you swift wind.
I wish you a changed phone number
that stays changed.
M. Soledad Caballero

Immigrant Confession

By M. Soledad Caballero The Cherokee are not originally from Oklahoma. Settlers forced
them to disappear west, into air and sky, beyond buildings,
beyond concrete, beyond the rabid land hunger. There was
a trail. There was despair. Reservations carved out of prairie
grass, lost space and sadness in the middle of flat dirt.
Shira Erlichman

89 Lines on a Bruise

By Shira Erlichman The Former Poet Laureate of the United States
wrote an eighty-nine line poem about clouds & I

want to write about clouds but all I can see
is this bruise on the inside of my inner-elbow the needle left

when posing a question about my toxicity level.
Malik Thompson

Self-Portrait Of The Black Boi Becoming The Monster He Always Desired To Be

By Malik Thompson Midnight is my first emotion, then starscream, bloodlust—
an impulse to sink my fangs into the nearest man’s
neck. Shotgun shells explode beneath my window,
dragging me from the grip of a ragged slumber—
the winds of this rotting city drenched in gunsmoke.
Jasminne Mendez

Machete: Look

By Jasminne Mendez It isn’t easy / to look / at what I have / cut. Which is to say — / wounded / from the body / of a tree / or a woman / or a child.
Raymond Antrobus

On Teaching Poetry In A Men’s High Security Prison

By Raymond Antrobus I was searched at every edge. I wanted everyone, including me, to be innocent. One inmate squeezed my hand like a letter he’d been hoping for.
Cyrée Jarelle Johnson

chewbacca was the blackest part of “The Force Awakens”

By Cyrée Jarelle Johnson Black excitement is danger. We have seen the other side of optimism for so long. Feels like fiction. Put your feet up on that dashboard because here comes the F U T U R E! Wow! Chewbacca was the blackest part of "The Force Awakens."
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