Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Claudia RankineMahalia Jackson is a genius. Or Mahalia Jackson has genius. The man I am with is trying to make a distinction. I am uncomfortable with his need to make this distinction because his inquiry begins to approach subtle shades of racism, classism, or sexism. It is hard to know which.
By Dunya MikhailThrough your eye
history enters
and punctured helmets pour out.
By Steven CramerI hear the dinner plates gossip
Mom collected to a hundred.
My friends say get on board,
By Saul LandauThe Cold War is over
why aren't we having fun
I have destroyed my internal Timex
By Theresa Davishoney
you are not being judged
because your bones decided
By Amaranth BorsukFew things the hand wished language could
do, given up on dialect's downward spiral:
words so readily betray things they're meant
By Jamaal MayHold a pomegranate in your palm,
imagine ways to split it, think of the breaking
skin as shrapnel. Remember granada
By Adam Wiedewitschin blue earth, among willows, aisles
of box-elder, elms, in the silence between
on the sand-bar in front
By Brian FanelliEvery Sunday, I came dressed in punk rocker black,
checkered pants, steel-toed Docs.
No tie dye on me when I joined