Ways to Count the Dead
By Persis M. KarimTake their limbs strewn about the streets—
multiply by a thousand and one.
Ask everyone in Baghdad who has lost
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Persis M. KarimTake their limbs strewn about the streets—
multiply by a thousand and one.
Ask everyone in Baghdad who has lost
By Don ShareJuly kindles the redneck in me.
I blaze down Interstates
that are viaducts for my beery nerves
By Kevin SimmondsI can write a poem
to the limbs of a grandmother
seeded in a scorched field
where her house stood
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 David Tomas MartinezIt's not water to wine to swallow harm,
though many of us have,
and changing the name
By Brenda CárdenasThis body always compost--
hair a plot of thin green stems
snowing a shroud of petals,
By Adam Wiedewitschin blue earth, among willows, aisles
of box-elder, elms, in the silence between
on the sand-bar in front
By Merna HechtThis morning I am remembering you, how as honored guest
you talked with my students who had recently arrived in America
from refugee camps where borders are stacked with blood and bullets.
By Persis M. KarimTheir sons who speak of a cause
As if it were their two feet
beneath them. That they could hold an idea
By Yvette Neisser MorenoSo this is how they decided to take him—
at the end of his life,
his frame shrunken, his wild rambling days over