Anchorage

By Joy Harjo This city is made of stone, of blood, and fish.
There are Chugatch Mountains to the east
and whale and seal to the west.

Nexus

By Brenda Cárdenas This body always compost--
hair a plot of thin green stems
snowing a shroud of petals,

By Carlos Parada Ayala Los argonautas se albergaron
en la oscuridad de mis zapatos
y un dragón azul acudió

By Gretchen Primack This is the press of the earth. One star hanging
there, honking like a goose. The lake
a smudge of black juice, the hill a draped

By Michelle Regalado Deatrick When I sweat in a Midwest January
and wish to God it was a hot flash but know
it's greenhouse gasses--read the news:

By Dan Vera This is what is feared:
that flags do not nourish the blood,
that history is not glorious or truthful.

By Jacob Rakovan The bones cast in the field like seed corn grow nothing,
grow briars in the boarded gas stations
brown stalks ready for the fire.

By Samiya Bashir Brother I don't either understand this
skipscrapple world that is--these
slick bubble cars zip feverish down

By Patricia Monaghan Just past dawn in early fall,
a sparrow screamed at me
as I walked into the woods.

By Jonathan B. Tucker pardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence