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 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 Sheila BlackThe brace was metal, and it fastened around the ankles.
Outside in the street there was the beggar with elephantiasis; there was
the leper, the neighbor with eyes milky blind,
By Penelope Scambly SchottBack when I used to march
in the noon of the green world,
I sang like a crow.
By Gregory PardloUnfinished, the road turns off the fill
from the gulf coast, tracing the bay, to follow
the inland waterway.
By Martín EspadaIn the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain
By A.B. Spellmanflorene barco moved
to philadelphia &
on a visit home