So, that you are always sir, dear sir
By Kenji LiuAsk me again why I am here
with this pine, this wild oyamel,
their great succulence of reason
You, machine lyric
and State, every state,
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Kenji LiuAsk me again why I am here
with this pine, this wild oyamel,
their great succulence of reason
You, machine lyric
and State, every state,
By Ross GayIs that Eric Garner worked
for some time for the Parks and Rec.
Horticultural Department, which means,
perhaps, that with his very large hands,
By Kim RobertsOysters may look to us
like wet floppy tongues,
but there’s no licking.
There’s no touching.
By Oliver de la PazThe way is written in the dark:
it has steel in it, something metallic, a gun,
a mallet, a piece of machinery--
something cold like the sea, something,
By L. Lamar WilsonShe ambles about this Mickey-Dee kitchen’s din,
unmoved by the hot grease threatening
her ¿puedo tomar su orden? mask.
By Roger ReevesThe moths in the orchard squeal
with each pass of the mistral wind.
Yet the reapers and their scythes,
out beyond the pear trees, slay wheat
By Amber Flamelike heartbreak, you are sure
that your story is different. felt
not worst but not exactly
explainable to anyone else
By Anna B. SuttonThis morning, there is an angel hanging by a thread,
cartoonish and carved out of soft wood. She twirls
circles above me, manipulated by the pulse
of a ceiling vent.
By Peter J. HarrisSaturn's rings was all nappy
spread out from her head
like she just woke up
took a shower & aint dried them yet