Elegy Ending With a Cell Door Closing
By Reginald Dwayne Betts& the Judge told him to count
The trees in the parking lot
Where there were only cars: Zero
The same number of stars
You could see on a night in the city.
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English Words
By José B. Gonzálezmy mouth agape for these english words made of stone
their sharpness could split my tongue, but one by one
i’ll use them to build a wall, one by one
excerpt from “The Hindrances of a Householder”
By Jennifer BartlettJennifer Bartlett performs an excerpt from "The Hindrances of a Householder" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
I Don’t Know Any Longer Why the Flags Are At Half-Staff
By Hanif Willis-AbdurraqibI think I am breaking up with memory. again. I live
by only that which will still allow me
to do the living. The flag, for example, reminds me
to either feel fear or sadness, depending on how high
from Autobiography/Anti-Autobiography
By Jennifer Bartlettto walk means to fall
to thrust forward
to fall and catch
the seemingly random
is its own system of gestures
Millie Christine
By Marilyn NelsonMarilyn Nelson performs the poem "Millie Christine" at the 2012 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Making History
By Marilyn NelsonSomebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.
Let Daylight Come (Little Rock, circa 2008)
By Antoinette BrimLet the moon untangle itself
from the clothesline, as coming daylight
diminishes its lamp to memory.
War Story
By Claire ZoghbHe’s put the war out of his mind. Shelling and murdered relatives behind him.