Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Rosa ChávezRi oj ab'aj xkoj qetal ruk'a k'atanalaj ch'ich'
Xk'at ri qab'aq'wach //
Las piedras fuimos marcadas con hierro candente
quemados nuestros ojos //
We, stones, were branded by hot iron
our eyes scorched
By Rachel Eliza GriffithsI remember the boys & their open hands. High fives
of farewell. I remember that the birches waved too,
the white jagged limbs turning away from incessant wildfires
By Sam TaylorAnd someone in a field found an old car
from the year black with beetles, eaten like lace,
and the sky fell into it, a private thing.
And everyone had a kitchen or a fold-out bed
By Danez SmithI am sick of writing this poem
but bring the boy. his new name
his same old body. ordinary, black
dead thing. bring him & we will mourn
By Constance NorgrenWho is she, standing just off-center,
her eyes on us, caught turning to us,
her arms folded over her chest,
By Saeed JonesAll throat now already brighter than the stars.
I could hold you in my song. Sotto voce, tremble
against me: a breeze slips in, cools my blood
By Homero AridjisA temple not in the temple
A temple apart from its form
A temple older than the stones
By Patricia Davisabout his sister how she
wanted
to be light
built night in her ribs
By Carlos Parada AyalaLos argonautas se albergaron
en la oscuridad de mis zapatos
y un dragón azul acudió
By Jericho BrownThey said to say goodnight
And not goodbye, unplugged
The TV when it rained. They hid