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By Taylor Alyson Lewis
there once was an island love or magic resurrected
where they could go to rest and look at
each other plainly and hold one another’s
hands and play music in their cars so that
the bass reverberated through the mountains
and down into the ocean and live.
By Jalynn Harris
At the entrance, six copper pillars stand tall as a wave
as once did six-fingered Lucille. She lived here, too–
The light alone enough to fill the lake. I walk the park
because I’m weak. All flesh and fur needing
to get out my bark. My rough squeeze of please please
A red bird. Another mile. My feet eat the concrete.
By Samia Saliba
golden shovel after karl marx, walter benjamin, richard siken, & zaina alsous
“the tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living”
- karl marx
in american cemeteries the dead overlap, the
hillside ostentatious in the catholic tradition.
By Ana Portnoy Brimmer
There’s so much to be learned from that which floats A patience
from the Gulf of Mexico to a sea of its name sargassum
drifts hand in hand with itself
By José Angel Araguz
I knew nothing about poems
when I was introduced to
the woman selling seashells by
the seashore. Placed in a
remedial speech class, told
my S’s served no one,
I felt set aside in
the silence of clear hallways
where I walked slow, savoring
not being where I belonged.
By Mia S. Willis
when the state murdered a poet
none of us slept none of us deserved to
the way we stood by with pens and phones and helpless guilt
By Jaz Sufi
BORDER, from the Middle English bordure, meaning “the decorative band
surrounding a shield,” a heraldic device intended to identify
possession — this flag flies over that land, & so this land belongs
to…
By Tanaya Winder
i.
we've entered a New World
Order on words, days
of economic deprivation
where only one percent thrives.
time is dictated by greediness
and fear, days when books
are banned by the belief
consumed.
By Raye Hendrix
when my mother dreamed of children she pictured
things in bowls beautiful fish gracing over
brightly colored stones clear water a bowl of her favorite
fruits ceramic overflowing pears and tangerines
blueberries fat with sweet
By Dujie Tahat
Pops bought a ‘78 Pontiac,
a firebird-stamped gold bar
on wheels, spontaneously,
after a conversation with
an aunt’s friend—so it went.