The Sign
By Jonathan B. Tuckerpardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Jonathan B. Tuckerpardon our appearance
as we grow to better serve you
says the sign on the fence
By Zein El-AmineSit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.
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 Daniel Nathan TerryThat Andersonville was a camp of nightmares,
a dark machine that brought slow death
to nearly 13,000 men, is not in dispute.
By Sonia SanchezYour limbs buried
in northern muscle carry
their own heartbeat
By Kathy Engelwrite about the killing of Troy Davis or
the years he claimed innocence so many times
the words fell from his mouth like drops of honey.
By Bonnie NaradzayLunch today for the inmates means white bread
and a slice of baloney. Dinner is more of the same.
The limit now - two meals a day to stay in budget.
By Reginald Dwayne BettsPrison is the sinner’s bouquet, house of shredded & torn
Dear John letters, upended grave of names, moon
Black kiss of a pistol’s flat side, time blueborn