Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By River 瑩瑩 Dandelioni was in labor for three days
in a hospital bed in Brooklyn
the lighting was harsh for your eyes
[my mother mimics her body
stick bug straight
arms plastered to side]
By Justice Ameereven ants go to war.
been thinking about it all summer, what it means…
i mean how human. or maybe how ant.
maybe nature begets violence because we all gotta eat.
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By emet ezelli bought her a shitty ass chicken sandwich.
$18.59 and dripping with oil—
my grandmother. she blessed
the meal for ten minutes before
taking a bite. poured out devotion like
gasoline. like pepsi cola. we knew then
that she was dying, but i lived
in the first paragraph, unprepared.
By Vickie VértizThe men inside the Pep Boys wear blue work shirts. Fingerprints on the hems. That’s
how I’m going to be: my hands with grease that won’t wash off. Like Apá buying Freon.
Fenders. My sister sniffs the little trees, outlines the posing girls with her eyes. We buy
peanuts and their candy turns our palms to red
By Ashna AliOn an assemblage of screens on another firework evening
Ruthie Gilmore reminds us that abolition is not recitation.
By Caridad Moro-Gronlierif i should
take you
to that spot
by the water
you can’t pronounce
but love
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 Allison Adelle Hedge CokeYour arm was twisted, bone exposed
face past point of wet stained,
fledgling fell there
By Juan J. MoralesLike two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
By Janlori GoldmanHis face stared out into the living room
of my grandparents’ walk-up on E. 13th.
After they died my father hung him