All the Trees of the Field Shall Clap Their Hands
By Eduardo C. CorralAre the knees & elbows
the first knots
the dead untie?
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Nexus
By Brenda CárdenasThis body always compost--
hair a plot of thin green stems
snowing a shroud of petals,
Why I Don’t Mention Flowers When Conversations with My Brother Reach Uncomfortable Silences
By Natalie DiazIn the Kashmir mountains,
my brother shot many men,
blew skulls from brown skins,
Cayucos
By Eduardo C. CorralA girl asleep beneath a fishing net
Sandals the color of tangerines
Off the coast of Morocco
from One Today
By Richard BlancoAll of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
The Borders Are Fluid Within Us
By Dan VeraThis is what is feared:
that flags do not nourish the blood,
that history is not glorious or truthful.
Looking for The Gulf Motel
By Richard BlancoThe Gulf Motel with mermaid lampposts
and ship's wheel in the lobby should still be
rising out of the sand like a cake decoration.
barreras
By María Luisa ArroyoMami called us away from the roach trap line
where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,
and I, fresh from Germany, poked
Always Here
By Rich Villarlacking a proper entrance
into a poem
about Arizona Senate Bill 1070