Things I Carried Coming Into the World
By Remica L. BinghamThe weight of my parents,
the dawn of them;
my grandmother's lackluster
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Remica L. BinghamThe weight of my parents,
the dawn of them;
my grandmother's lackluster
By Samiya BashirBrother I don't either understand this
skipscrapple world that is--these
slick bubble cars zip feverish down
By celeste doaksTell them it's always under attack. Tell them there's no cure
for the disease, or answer to the riddle. Tell them you asked many
before you, some who won, some who lost.
By Kamilah Aisha MoonHuge dashes in the sand, two or three
times a year they swim like words
in a sentence toward the period
By DaMaris B. HillI dream of hounds. Their teeth loose in my veins.
Their howls consume me. They growl and feast.
She whispers not to run. I can't refrain.
By Quraysh Ali Lansanai've heard tell of a hustle
in brooklyn where clever folks
throw themselves in front of cars
By Lauryn NesbittAs long as you wake up everyday you should have
no reason to complain, right
i guess if i'm still breathing then i'm not really
By Camille T. DungyThe poet's hands degenerate until her cup is too heavy.
You are not required to understand.
This is not the year for understanding.
By Marilyn NelsonSomebody took a picture of a class
standing in line to get polio shots,
and published it in the Weekly Reader.