Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Demetrice Anntía WorleyOn this eve of the dead, I cry out loud,
“por favor Virgen de Guadalupe, don’t
forsake me,” before I open the door,
before I see la policía flat
By Teresa ScollonLook how you've carried these small bodies
across the ocean, looking for the next one
to hear the story. Look how gently you laid
these children down at the fire where stories are told.
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 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.