Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Tonee Mae MollWe’re looking for that old revolutionary road again
a poet said we’d meet where the grass grows uphill.
I couldn’t think of a better way to describe America
torch in one hand, scrolling through her smart phone with the other
By Mai Der VangConcerning our hollow breasts,
Lice factions multiplying in our hair.
Concerning our unused stomachs,
Molars waiting to chew, taste buds
By Sherwin BitsuiFather's dying ceased
when he refunded this ours
for fused hands plaster-coated
By M. Soledad CaballeroHe says, they will not take us.
They want the ones who love
another god, the ones whose
joy comes with five prayers and
By Jeanann VerleeIn a humble, godless house
you moved through youth like any girl.
Dolls & other toys, yours,
in parts.
By Paul TranDesert born. Wild
As corn. Dry
Bitch. Itchy clit.
Meteorologists
Measure me
With mercury;
Police with murder rates.
By Danielle BadraWe are not born to be barons of wealth. We
are soft spoken wordsmiths, not soldiers. We are
not broken by hardship or hate. We are not
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By John JamesIn Georgetown, IN, the steel projector reels.
The desert stretches blankly before us, a red
plain constellated with rows of dry mesquite.
By Heather Derr-SmithOne man said there are hundreds
of delicate articulated bones
in the human head. So don’t let it
get punched. Easier said than done.