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leilani portillo

believe me

By leilani portillo when i say
the land is my
ancestor
believe me.
Kimberly Blaeser

A Water Poem for Remembering

By Kimberly Blaeser Yes, it’s true I speak ill of the living
in coded ways divorced from the dead.
Why Lyla June fasts on capitol steps.
Trevino L. Brings Plenty

[Untitled]

By Trevino L. Brings Plenty To acknowledge so-
cietal micro-systems
as a poet means I
will continue to be
emerging within an on-
slaught of the macro-
system submergence
operations.
Lupe Mendez

Un tornillo en el corazón - after @jacobsoboroff

By Lupe Mendez don’t even know where to start.
you notice when you walk into the shelter — no joke —
a new war.
Karenne Wood

The Poet I Wish I Was

By Karenne Wood 1. A white poet whose work I admire said she feels most inspired on her daily four-mile walk through a forest.

2. I wish I had time to walk four miles daily. I can usually manage one mile with dogs. My dogs are distractible, and they distract me.
Sherwin Bitsui

from Dissolve

By Sherwin Bitsui Father's dying ceased
when he refunded this ours
for fused hands plaster-coated
Joy Harjo

In a World Long Before This One

By Joy Harjo Joy Harjo performs at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival. Harjo opens her performance with an honor song, followed by the poem, "In a World Long Before This One."
L. Lamar Wilson

A Patch of Blue in Tenleytown

By L. Lamar Wilson She ambles about this Mickey-Dee kitchen’s din,
unmoved by the hot grease threatening
her ¿puedo tomar su orden? mask.
Allison Adelle Hedge Coke

First Morning Poem

By Allison Adelle Hedge Coke In a room facing chimneys
over the place Nancy Morejón rests
between sleeps lining free lines
she whispers to hearing DC:
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.
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