Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Sunu P. ChandyAt the shiny stones and rocks booth, I am unusually patient. I even consider spending a few dollars on a few pebbles. She seemed to sense that, without me saying a word, and I could feel her heart smile.
And then in one instant, everything changed. Looking toward the cashier, she saw, just hanging out there on the wall, real guns in real life.
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 Ina Cariñomemory of magnolia on lapels. grandfather’s paper
cheeks pale, teeth whiter than frosted hibiscus.
when I visit the mausoleum, I lay a white cloth on his tomb,
mesh of cobwebs stretched across the buds
By Faylita HicksCrawling out from between the legs of a woman
with my name still wetly slathered across her chin,
I cradle the lewd silk of our venom
up against the hot swell of my caged chest, wade out
through her front door, into the murky billows
of the damned and the damnable,
By adrienne maree browneven now
we could be happy
even now
breathing in
filling our bodies with right now
By mónica teresa ortizI wake up sleepless inside a room overlooking giants//mist peeling over olive trees//clouds of pleasure
By Rio CortezJust as close to living as you are to disappearing knowing
my limits you locate the tender spots without.
By Ashna AliOn an assemblage of screens on another firework evening
Ruthie Gilmore reminds us that abolition is not recitation.
By Siaara FreemanWhen I say ancestors, let’s be clear:
I mean slaves. I’m talkin’ Tennessee
cotton & Louisiana suga. I mean grave dirt.
By Aurora Levins MoralesWhy do they call us "the patient"
We are not patient. We endure.