Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Karla Corderoi watch slasher movies but hate the sight of real blood leave the body
i panic on planes & think of ways the machine or sky
will betray me i read books in fear to evaporate
out of this world without seeing its soft hands
By Rio CortezJust as close to living as you are to disappearing knowing
my limits you locate the tender spots without.
By Caridad Moro-Gronlierif i should
take you
to that spot
by the water
you can’t pronounce
but love
By Cintia Santanainside
a cell
a heart
(my cousin’s)
inside
his heart
(inside
a cell)
a cluster
of cells
arrested
By Aurora Levins MoralesWhy do they call us "the patient"
We are not patient. We endure.
By Adela NajarroI have learned to speak dementia
by looking straight into her eyes
smiling, laughing, then digging deep
By Aideed MedinaDe piedra, sangre.
I make my own heaven. I drag it out of the streets, and inhospitable terrains. I mixed "tabique", brick, mortar with my hands, kneading,
I need, to make my own heaven
By Juan J. MoralesLike two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
By Naomi Ortizbase booms opposite my scooter
rattles
I am obstruction
