All The Kids With Rhythm Bang on Metal Locker Doors At Lunchtime
By Joselia Rebekah HughesBlack able rack able
hack able tack able
lack able slack able
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Joselia Rebekah HughesBlack able rack able
hack able tack able
lack able slack able
By Liv MammoneThe train is a creature that moves like water.
It has no eyes, only a sharp
mouth that closes on those too slow.
By Liza SparksWhen a ponderosa pine
is over one hundred—
it sheds a layer of bark.
By Erin HooverMy child babies a squeeze bottle of craft glue
or a lipstick tube filched from my purse.
She yanks a tissue from our coffee table
By Zefyr LisowskiWas not a monster— (His hands were soft)
Was not an abnormality— Was not just
“being a boy”— Had no reputation—
By Leigh SugarI knew it was something bodies could do, disobey –
a girl a grade above had died that fall
of the cancer I was being tested for in winter,
By Aideed MedinaDe piedra, sangre.
I make my own heaven. I drag it out of the streets, and inhospitable terrains. I mixed "tabique", brick, mortar with my hands, kneading,
I need, to make my own heaven
By Jessica (Tyner) MehtaConductor drives us, the cow-
catcher barreling straight into the teeth
of Memory’s harshest winter.
By Emily K. MichaelThe speed reading class for seventh graders
slumped over tight columns of text spread flat
on tables in the library where in her half-glasses
By Janlori GoldmanHis face stared out into the living room
of my grandparents’ walk-up on E. 13th.
After they died my father hung him