Un templo que no está en el templo / A temple not in the temple

By Homero Aridjis A temple not in the temple
A temple apart from its form
A temple older than the stones

The Dogs and I Walked Our Woods,

By Gretchen Primack and there was a dog, precisely the colors of autumn,
asleep between two trunks by the trail.
But it was a coyote, paws pink

By Venus Thrash Deep in the heart of the Garden of Eden,
past the Euphrates & Tigris riverbanks,
the marsh grass, reed beds, bulrushes,

By Joy Harjo This city is made of stone, of blood, and fish.
There are Chugatch Mountains to the east
and whale and seal to the west.

By Brenda Cárdenas This body always compost--
hair a plot of thin green stems
snowing a shroud of petals,

By Carlos Parada Ayala Los argonautas se albergaron
en la oscuridad de mis zapatos
y un dragón azul acudió

By Gretchen Primack This is the press of the earth. One star hanging
there, honking like a goose. The lake
a smudge of black juice, the hill a draped

By Michelle Regalado Deatrick When 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 Dan Vera This is what is feared:
that flags do not nourish the blood,
that history is not glorious or truthful.

By Jacob Rakovan The bones cast in the field like seed corn grow nothing,
grow briars in the boarded gas stations
brown stalks ready for the fire.