Hard Winter
By Matt DalyEverywhere I go, people are shouting
at one another, people are shaking
their fists at one another. Everywhere
I go, I see someone knapping
an edge to a stone.
Search Results
from Dissolve
By Sherwin BitsuiFather's dying ceased
when he refunded this ours
for fused hands plaster-coated
Frequently Asked Questions: #7
By Camille T. DungyIs it difficult to get away from it all once you've had a child?
I am swaying in the galley — working
to appease this infant who is not
fussing but will be fussing if I don't move —
Pause Hawk Cloud Enter
By Lauren CampThe soup cooks for an hour while vultures and buzzards pluck the market.
My father wipes his forehead with a white cloth.
Once, each day began with khubz and samoon
Mothers of Murdered Sons
By Dominique ChristinaDominique Christina performs the poem "Mothers of Murdered Sons" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Standing Rock, Part I
By Veronica GolosHave I stepped back in time, or forward?
A graveled road, hovering flags, the sound
of waves against chunk rock -- and
voices billow into birds,
Makers
By Pamela AlexanderWe didn’t waste them. We used the trees
to build, to burn. Some jungles
got in our way, and animals, especially bears.
History
By Linda HoganThis is the word that is always bleeding.
You didn't think this
until you country changes and when it thunders
you search your own body
For Margaret Garner (28 days free until)
By Dominique ChristinaWhen the sun is pitiless
When the girl is a gust of get out fast
When the boys are forced to mingle with the forest
When the baby, still nursing leaves her mother
For Eli
By Andrea GibsonAndrea Gibson performs the poem "For Eli" at the 2010 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.