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Camisha Jones This body is one long moan
My feet a landscape of mines
My legs two full pails of water I spill
at the weight of
My back where the sharpest knives are kept
My hands a scatter of matches ready to spark into flame
Jose Padua Jose Padua performs the poem "Grinderman" at the 2012 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Tim Seibles Tim Seibles performs "One Turn Around the Sun" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Bettina Judd Lucy didn’t scream like most. Though sometimes she
would moan--deep, long and overdue. I’d wake
thinking death. It’s her, knees curled under, head face
down, her body trying to move out of itself. Anarcha
Hermine Pinson Mother
“ I will ask you to recall these words
at the end of our session”
Tara Shea Burke When we met we fell for each other like leaves.
Behind black curtains your bedroom was always dark
except for unexpected soft-yellow walls. Your dogs
Elizabeth Hoover Ñuul, the teacher says and smacks his knee to show
where the stress falls. Ñuul, the children repeat each
starting at a different time so they sing a sour chord.
Patricia Davis about his sister how she
to be light
built night in her ribs
Remica L. Bingham The weight of my parents,
the dawn of them;
my grandmother's lackluster
Renée Ellen Olander Yesterday, a ten-year old newcomer to a zoo
Fought her new mate, broke
Out of her cage, and galumphed