Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Nancy HuangI build a UFO. I paint it
sparkly purple like the best sex bruise
you ever got. I line
my foil aircraft with crystals
humming different vibrations.
I woo the shit out of this
engine battery. Rocket fuel and
hard rock swing.
By Maya MarshallToday’s nothing fancy: my mother lives,
a simple pleasure. My cat made biscuits
on my knee. A woman I desire,
giggled with me, invited me to touch
a whale. I fell for a man I barely know,
his delicious disdain, his persistent smile,
flaking skin and mane.
By Rio CortezJust as close to living as you are to disappearing knowing
my limits you locate the tender spots without.
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 Liza SparksWhen a ponderosa pine
is over one hundred—
it sheds a layer of bark.
By Juan J. MoralesLike two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
By Kimberly BlaeserScientists say my brain and heart
are 73 percent water—
they underestimate me.
By Naomi Ortizbase booms opposite my scooter
rattles
I am obstruction
By Nathan SpoonYou are living inside the cup of another life. Water
is running slowly. Somewhere a hand is overflowing
with the abundance and celebration denizens dream of.