from part one of Diary of a Wave Outside the Sea
By Dunya MikhailThrough your eye
history enters
and punctured helmets pour out.
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Dunya MikhailThrough your eye
history enters
and punctured helmets pour out.
By Myra SklarewIn the mirror of infinite regress
go back. Go back to Vietnam. To a man
who can spot a trip wire fine as a hair,
By Kathi WolfeI'm in my seat,
averting my eyes,
those funhouse mirrors,
By Lisa L. MooreWord got out about the bad bill.
College students packed up their bikinis,
went back to Austin to tell those men why
By Lillian AllenThe boy is broken on the sidewalk
The sidewalk is broken beneath him
His colour is back (not black)
By Jennifer PerrineUnder the surface of this winter lake,
I can still hear him say you're on thin ice
now, my heel grabbed, dragged into the opaque
By Theresa Davishoney
you are not being judged
because your bones decided
By Amaranth BorsukFew things the hand wished language could
do, given up on dialect's downward spiral:
words so readily betray things they're meant
By Michelle Regalado DeatrickWhen I sweat in a Midwest January
and wish to God it was a hot flash but know
it's greenhouse gasses--read the news:
By Denise BergmanShe is a neighbor a building away, we talk weather and potholes, exchange
names Mary same as her daughter or is she Marissa or Maria I was distracted
her nephew was chewing the leg of his doll and the day was disappearing before