Oil: A Love Poem
By Chris AugustAmerica, don’t we love like oil?
Don’t our slippery arms
Pave the pores of those who need us?
Search Results
Note from a Prodigal Son III
By Randall HortonThe gavel
The splintered body
The red-neck guards
If You Leave Your Shoes
By Joseph RossIf you leave your shoes
on the front porch
when you run
Manchild
By Cornelius EadyA warning one white friend hisses
To the one standing nearest to me
At an Upper West Side newsstand.
Torso
By Francisco AragónDespite the absent head (whose eyes
were the green of apples)
America, I Sing Back
By Allison Adelle Hedge CokeAmerica, I sing back. Sing back what sung you in.
Sing back the moment you cherished breath.
Sing you home into yourself and back to reaso
Zen of Tipping
By Jan BeattyMy friend Lou
used to walk up to strangers
and tip them - no, really -