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Aideed Medina De 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
Juan J. Morales Like two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
Deborah A. Miranda The people you cannot treat as people
Whose backs bent over your fields, your kitchens, your cattle, your children
We whose hands harvested the food we planted and cultivated for your mouth, your belly.
Laura Tohe My body
Tamiko Beyer Dear child of the near future,
here is what I know—hawks
soar on the updraft and sparrows always
return to the seed source until they spot
Nathan Spoon You are living inside the cup of another life. Water
is running slowly. Somewhere a hand is overflowing
with the abundance and celebration denizens dream of.
I.S. Jones the moon is my first emotion then beast then happy rage
depending on a zealous appetite
i pull bobby pins from the kitchen of my scalp tear out nails
Jennifer Falú the miracle
Darrel Alejandro Holnes Only beasts are supposed to hibernate.
But this brother has been lying there
for years. Truth isn’t a news headline.
Yesenia Montilla once at eight years old I nearly gave myself a concussion running
my mother would braid my hair and wrap the ends in the heaviest
hair ties with the biggest colorful glass balls; they were lethal; as