Pomegranate Means Grenade
By Jamaal MayHold a pomegranate in your palm,
imagine ways to split it, think of the breaking
skin as shrapnel. Remember granada
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Jamaal MayHold a pomegranate in your palm,
imagine ways to split it, think of the breaking
skin as shrapnel. Remember granada
By Gowri Koneswaranwe're taught to hold hands
when we cross the street
or walk with our mothers in parking lots or
By Brian FanelliEvery Sunday, I came dressed in punk rocker black,
checkered pants, steel-toed Docs.
No tie dye on me when I joined
By Margaret RozgaLet there be drums and harps,
piccolos and flutes, violins,
banjos and guitars.
By Daniela ElzaI drink a blood sunset down Cardinal Avenue.
my shoes soaked poppies my mind quiet as
a book with a bomb in its mouth.
By Carmen CalatayudSome generations ago,
you were a Zapatista
inside your great-grandmother's
By Merna HechtThis morning I am remembering you, how as honored guest
you talked with my students who had recently arrived in America
from refugee camps where borders are stacked with blood and bullets.
By Tim SeiblesPicture a city
and the survivors: from their
windows, some scream.
By Solmaz SharifYour knives tip down
in the dish rack
of the replica plantation home
By Zein El-AmineSit in their circle.
Don't let your eyes linger
on any object in the room.