God Is Brown
By Lorenzo Herrera y LozanoBrown is the color of my god’s skin.
Gentle, curvy, older than a Spanish whip.
My god abides outside of sin,
no water needed to baptize the newly born.
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The Transkid Explains Gentrification, Explains Themselves
By Taylor JohnsonWhen I again take out more than I have available in my bank
account and I know I shouldn’t to make the rent
I am grateful and lucky to pay there is
a woman on the bus who is the mother or aunt or some loved one of
things that shine in the night
By Rigoberto GonzálezFulgencio's silver crown--when he snores
the moon, coin of Judas, glaring
at the smaller metals we call stars
my buckle
A Car, A Man, A Maraca
By Charlie BondhusAt the mirror I heft
elbows, belly, cock,
say hematocrit—44.3; hemoglobin—15.2;
neutrophils—62; monocytes—5.
Love at First Sight
By Kathi WolfeIn an elevator trapped
between the fifteenth and sixteenth
floor of her apartment building,
Sunday morning, Elizabeth, her cane
No Homo
By Douglas KearneyDouglas Kearney performs the poem "No Homo" at the 2012 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Ode to the Beloved’s Hips
By Natalie DiazNatalie Diaz reads "Ode to the Beloved's Hips" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Blessed Be
By Niki Herdthe black body found
next door near the house where
the blind girl lived