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Juan J. Morales

Of Avocados

By Juan J. Morales Like two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
Hari Alluri

Clarification Card: The Spiral (“The cigarette is pretext: smoke rises from within”)

By Hari Alluri Unless you’re practiced as a lola’s wrinkles,
do not flip the lit side of the yosi in your mouth.
They developed this skill in war and carried it
Tobias Wray

Music Arises from Component Parts or The Dream of a Clarinet

By Tobias Wray Once done,
my father pulled
the instrument apart.
Carlos Andrés Gómez

Ghosts of Abolition

By Carlos Andrés Gómez whisper through tear gas—
remind of the original
patrols, ruddy-cheeked
Kyle Dargan

Poem Resisting Arrest

By Kyle Dargan This poem is guilty. It assumed it retained
the right to ask its question after the page

came up flush against its face.
Tarik Dobbs

Skybridge Rendering Above Minneapolis & the West Bank

By Tarik Dobbs Chorus: Like a bridge over troubled water…
For years, settlers longingly, vertical, build over us, Starbucks has no sinks. Will we go? Lately, the bridge, their throne. When even these are somewhere to watch from, to drop a knee & propose somewhere to feel for a bank.
Kyle Dargan

Remedial Heteronormativity

By Kyle Dargan “Man-law” I first violate at age ten—
my wandering fingers not appeased by picking
through my cousin’s video
game cartridges, Sports Illustrateds.
Trevino L. Brings Plenty

[Untitled]

By Trevino L. Brings Plenty To acknowledge so-
cietal micro-systems
as a poet means I
will continue to be
emerging within an on-
slaught of the macro-
system submergence
operations.
Brandon Douglas

Deadlocked

By Brandon Douglas Scrolling thru my newsfeed
I saw a snapshot of a klansman with dreadlocks
It baffles me
How loud the white obsession is with blackness
Malik Thompson

Self-Portrait Of The Black Boi Becoming The Monster He Always Desired To Be

By Malik Thompson Midnight is my first emotion, then starscream, bloodlust—
an impulse to sink my fangs into the nearest man’s
neck. Shotgun shells explode beneath my window,
dragging me from the grip of a ragged slumber—
the winds of this rotting city drenched in gunsmoke.
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