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Latin Freestyle

By David-Matthew Barnes I remember the rhythm at night:

Your hips wanting mine,
to grind our street-smart
Persis M. Karim

Ways to Count the Dead

By Persis M. Karim Take their limbs strewn about the streets—
multiply by a thousand and one.

Ask everyone in Baghdad who has lost

Ars Poetica

By Kevin Simmonds I can write a poem
to the limbs of a grandmother
seeded in a scorched field
where her house stood
Nicholas Samaras

Anxiety Attack at 27,000 Feet

By Nicholas Samaras What is that red throbbing over the sound of engines?
Why is a distant war still being talked about in the media?
I can't see my home or Iraq or the Middle East
outside this bowed rectangle of blue altitude.
Gretchen Primack

The Dogs and I Walked Our Woods,

By 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
Joy Harjo

Anchorage

By Joy Harjo This city is made of stone, of blood, and fish.
There are Chugatch Mountains to the east
and whale and seal to the west.
Eduardo Corral

All the Trees of the Field Shall Clap Their Hands

By Eduardo C. Corral Are the knees & elbows
the first knots
the dead untie?
Sheila Black

My Mission is to Surprise and Delight

By Sheila Black Sheila Black reads "My Mission is to Surprise & Delight" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.

My daughter works in the Apple Store--the Help Center, open 24-7,
people from all fifty states, angry because their iPhones
malfunctioned or they don't know how to program their data
celeste doaks

Single Twin Band Crush

By celeste doaks Aaron and Anita, the first real twins I ever personally knew,
drum majored our ragged band in high school called--
the Marching LaSalle Lions. Anita was the outgoing,
Myra Sklarew

Infinite Regress of War

By Myra Sklarew In the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,
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