factory work: made in china.

By Meg Eden I look for a man's hand inside
the folds of my purse, and find
a pattern that recalls a finger print, the way

In a Summer of Snipers

By Joseph Ross In a summer of snipers
some men raised their hands
with fingers pressed

By Kim Roberts O augury seeker,
know and be aware...
In the book of divination,

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

By Kathleen O'Toole He arrived first as a student of geology
in the bicentennial year.
He witnessed

By Kim Jensen You know the economy's bad
when people are lined up around the block
to apply for the job
of the wicked witch.

By Alan King The president of pride's been overthrown
by a coup.
The president of humility shakes his head.

By Naomi Ayala And now, where the moon
rose behind here,
three stories loom—

By Chris August America, don’t we love like oil?
Don’t our slippery arms
Pave the pores of those who need us?

By Jody Bolz Pages flit above the ruined bookstalls.
Blank or dark with words, it doesn’t matter:
paper is as dangerous as ink—as thought.