Day at the Pond Without Geese
By Jeff GundyA good day for late wildflowers--daisies and burrs
leaned out into the path for a better view, brilliant
blue somethings with tiny blooms on tall stalks.
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Jeff GundyA good day for late wildflowers--daisies and burrs
leaned out into the path for a better view, brilliant
blue somethings with tiny blooms on tall stalks.
By Gregory PardloUnfinished, the road turns off the fill
from the gulf coast, tracing the bay, to follow
the inland waterway.
By Chris AugustAmerica, don’t we love like oil?
Don’t our slippery arms
Pave the pores of those who need us?
By Jericho BrownNot the palm, not the pear tree
Switch, not the broomstick,
Nor the closet extension
Cord, not his braided belt, but God
By Randall HortonThe gavel
The splintered body
The red-neck guards
By Philip MetresIn the green beginning,
in the morning mist,
they emerge from their chrysalis
By Joseph RossIf you leave your shoes
on the front porch
when you run
By Cornelius EadyA warning one white friend hisses
To the one standing nearest to me
At an Upper West Side newsstand.
By Martín EspadaIn the republic of poetry,
a train full of poets
rolls south in the rain
By Francisco AragónDespite the absent head (whose eyes
were the green of apples)