Oceanside, CA
By Marie-Elizabeth MaliBalancing on crutches in the shallows
near her mother, a girl missing her right lower leg
swings her body and falls, laughing.
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Marie-Elizabeth MaliBalancing on crutches in the shallows
near her mother, a girl missing her right lower leg
swings her body and falls, laughing.
By David-Matthew BarnesI remember the rhythm at night:
Your hips wanting mine,
to grind our street-smart
By Persis M. KarimTake their limbs strewn about the streets—
multiply by a thousand and one.
Ask everyone in Baghdad who has lost
By Kevin SimmondsI can write a poem
to the limbs of a grandmother
seeded in a scorched field
where her house stood
By Nicholas SamarasWhat is that red throbbing over the sound of engines?
Why is a distant war still being talked about in the media?
I can't see my home or Iraq or the Middle East
outside this bowed rectangle of blue altitude.
By Kamilah Aisha MoonWhen you're gay in Dixie,
you're a clown of a desperate circus.
Sometimes the only way to be like daddy
By David Tomas MartinezIt's not water to wine to swallow harm,
though many of us have,
and changing the name
By Pablo Miguel Martinezthe math of dance
the math of breath
counting 4 / 4
By Elizabeth AcevedoRob, my heart is a peeled clementine and I don't wince
anymore when you stick your thumb in the hollow middle,
pull apart. You don't even swallow these pieces