The Dogs and I Walked Our Woods,
By Gretchen Primackand there was a dog, precisely the colors of autumn,
asleep between two trunks by the trail.
But it was a coyote, paws pink
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Gretchen Primackand there was a dog, precisely the colors of autumn,
asleep between two trunks by the trail.
But it was a coyote, paws pink
By Eduardo C. CorralAre the knees & elbows
the first knots
the dead untie?
By Sheila BlackSheila 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
By celeste doaksAaron 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,
By Myra SklarewIn the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,
By Eduardo C. CorralA girl asleep beneath a fishing net
Sandals the color of tangerines
Off the coast of Morocco
By Gretchen PrimackThis is the press of the earth. One star hanging
there, honking like a goose. The lake
a smudge of black juice, the hill a draped
By Joseph RossHammering on rocks
can break the hammerer's back
when stooped
By Truth ThomasShayna reads the Word and takes
the story of that first miracle as
serious as unpaid electric bills in
winter