Build You Up
By Alison Roh ParkIf it were not so scarred from your accidental
rages—uptown, upstate—I would have rested
on the cinder block of your chest.
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Alison Roh ParkIf it were not so scarred from your accidental
rages—uptown, upstate—I would have rested
on the cinder block of your chest.
By Heather DavisThe lights in your home channel 29 men, their
soot stained clothes, last breaths, crystalline sweat
let loose on black rock
By Lauren K. AlleyneHere is the night snarled with stars, here is the smile
full of teeth. Here is the bloom of desire, its scent swift
entering everything. Here are the arms, the legs, the heady
By Camille T. DungyPause here at the flower stand-mums
and gladiolas, purple carnations
dark as my heart.
By Jody BolzPages flit above the ruined bookstalls.
Blank or dark with words, it doesn’t matter:
paper is as dangerous as ink—as thought.
By Carly SachsWhere does memory go?
Our windows looking out on the bay,
my wet clothes hanging on the antlers
By Sholeh WolpéHere come the octopi of war
tentacles wielding guns, missiles
holy books and colorful flags.
By Tara BettsQuiet girl found a voice mama could not quell
inside Nutbush City Limits. The baby
blasted beyond timid Annie Mae into Tina
By Lori DesrosiersI was the wrong kind of bride,
more sweat than glisten,
more peach than pomegranate.
By Remica L. BinghamI enter to find all the students in uniform
occupying a small room.