Amphibians
By Joseph O. LegaspiAmphibians live in both.
Immigrants leave their land,
hardening in the sea.
Out of water.
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Dorothy Wordsworth
By Jennifer ChangThe daffodils can go fuck themselves.
I’m tired of their crowds, yellow rantings
about the spastic sun that shines and shines
and shines. How are they any different
2008, XII
By Wendell BerryWe forget the land we stand on
and live from. We set ourselves
free in an economy founded
on nothing, on greed verified
Fires on Highway 192
By Deborah AgerIn Florida, it was raining ash because the fire
demanded it. I had to point my car landward
and hope the smoke would part, but it was a grey sea
absorbing my body. Cabbage Palms were annihilated.
Set the Garden on Fire
By Chen ChenMy friend’s new neighbors in the suburbs
are planting a neat row of roses
between her house & theirs.
To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian
By Ross GayTumbling through the
city in my
mind without once
looking up
History
By Juan Carlos GaleanoIn the north we hunted many buffalo
whose lard warmed us all winter.
But in the jungle they told us that to bring more light
Song for the Turtles in the Gulf
By Linda HoganWe had been together so very long,
you willing to swim with me
just last month, myself merely small
Of Late, I Have Been Thinking About Despair
By T. J. Jarrettits ruthless syntax, and the ease with which it interjects
itself into our days. I thought how best to explain this—
this dark winter, but that wasn’t it, or beds unshared
but that isn’t exactly it either, until I remembered