How Manifestos Are Made

By Noah Arhm Choi If I fail my mouth this story plays again.
Back home he yanks mama's mouth
round into screams, burns

Across the Street from the Whitmore Home for Girls, 1949

By Rachel McKibbens The Mad Girls climb the wet hill,
breathe the sharp air through sick-green lungs.
The Wildest One wanders off like an old cow

By Venus Thrash I am wearing a white tux with tails,
or a baby blue one with a ruffly shirt,
or decked out in classic black, or coolly

By Carlos Andrés Gómez This poem is in video format.

By Kathleen Hellen I sit in the front row of
bleachers -- cheap seats for greater grief.
My son

By Judith Arcana You read the tiny cardboard book before
you scratch the strip under Augie's New Pizza
on the back of MIA:We still don't know

By Vanessa Huang May you rest
In peace
This night

By Don Share Greetings to the red-eyed clouds
from this, the house that sits
on the mound and faces the corner

By Melissa Tuckey Two slight young women--
the smaller one
reaches for hands

By Ailish Hopper Each time, Kenny says
With Love,
I look at you, I see