Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By River 瑩瑩 Dandelioni was in labor for three days
in a hospital bed in Brooklyn
the lighting was harsh for your eyes
[my mother mimics her body
stick bug straight
arms plastered to side]
By Nicole Homerno: what other name could a god have:
I named my son after my dead
grandfathers: blood and not blood
gather around the bent-corner Kodak
altar:
By Leslie McIntoshImal, direct action protest visible from satellite is time travel, is binge-watching the future. Your optic nerves can reach where no lung has emptied, and speak back with authority, so what is the meaning of witness? Imal, when I see your lover’s face, I am seeing what it has become, in spite of you, and everyone. And what does he see?
By Kay Ulanday BarrettIn summertime, the women
in my family spin sagoo
like planets, make
even saturn blush.
By Evie Shockleycan i deduce the nature of humanity from the relationship of american and multinational pharmaceutical corporations to african women with hiv?
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By Ruth Irupé SanabriaMy grandfather asked me: could I remember
him, the park, the birds, the bread?
I’ll be dying soon, he said.
By Vincent ToroLike a charm of goldfinches we will gather. We will gather at the sea
crest and inside toppled cubicles, drawing upon this horizon of shady
treaties and chemical weapons depots as if cajoled toward the coast
By Rigoberto GonzálezRigoberto González performs the poem "In the Village of Missing Sons" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
By Rigoberto GonzálezFulgencio's silver crown--when he snores
the moon, coin of Judas, glaring
at the smaller metals we call stars
my buckle
By Charlie BondhusAt the mirror I heft
elbows, belly, cock,
say hematocrit—44.3; hemoglobin—15.2;
neutrophils—62; monocytes—5.