The Republic of Poetry
By Martín EspadaIn the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain
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Torso
By Francisco AragónDespite the absent head (whose eyes
were the green of apples)
from Things I Don’t Miss From My Youth
By A.B. Spellmanflorene barco moved
to philadelphia &
on a visit home
Anonymous Song
By Fady JoudahWhen the shooting began
Everyone ran to the trucks
Grabbed whatever their backs needed
And made for the trucks
Wave
By David KeplingerLincoln, leaving Springfield, 1861,
Boards a train with a salute: but it is weak.
To correct it, he slides his hand away