Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Gisselle YepesAnd in twenty-five days, we make a year without
Tio Freddy alive, without his flesh inhaling
cigarettes or bud once filled with wind
like that winter after Wela died, the only winter
we got with him here, we walked
every time we linked
downstairs to smoke, to watch the trees
mirror our empty.
By Maya MarshallToday’s nothing fancy: my mother lives,
a simple pleasure. My cat made biscuits
on my knee. A woman I desire,
giggled with me, invited me to touch
a whale. I fell for a man I barely know,
his delicious disdain, his persistent smile,
flaking skin and mane.
By Moncho AlvaradoShe said, it's facil, look up, kiss everything,
hold the sun between your mouth,
blow like this * * * * * ****
**** * * * * **** *****
after I told her I was a woman, she wrinkled
the space between us by hugging me.
By GoldenEyes open: I see every planet ————————–[pregnant]
with [pedestrians] –—————in their—————–[rivers]
& I wonder if this is the ————————————[Matrix]
reloaded in my [brain] ————the———————[agents]
telling me red is ———————————————[ripe]
[nectar] ——————for tomorrow’s——————[burial]
By Rio CortezJust as close to living as you are to disappearing knowing
my limits you locate the tender spots without.
By Ashna AliOn an assemblage of screens on another firework evening
Ruthie Gilmore reminds us that abolition is not recitation.
By Eugenia LeighSomeone on the internet is mourning
her dad—that old goat—with a goldmine
of anecdotes. Scraps of fondness I scrape off
her tweet—his beef wellington, her frogs. I want
By Joselia Rebekah HughesBlack able rack able
hack able tack able
lack able slack able
By Liv MammoneThe train is a creature that moves like water.
It has no eyes, only a sharp
mouth that closes on those too slow.
By Zefyr LisowskiWas not a monster— (His hands were soft)
Was not an abnormality— Was not just
“being a boy”— Had no reputation—