PONDEROSA PINE
By Liza SparksWhen a ponderosa pine
is over one hundred—
it sheds a layer of bark.
Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Liza SparksWhen a ponderosa pine
is over one hundred—
it sheds a layer of bark.
By Juan J. MoralesLike two hands pressed
together, they are twice as large
on the island. One feeds
By Camille T. DungyIs it difficult to get away from it all once you've had a child?
I am swaying in the galley — working
to appease this infant who is not
fussing but will be fussing if I don't move —
By Linda HoganI thank the eagle and Old Mother for this prayer
I send to earth and sky
and the sacred waters. I thank Old Mother
and the golden eagle, the two who taught me to pray
By Dominique ChristinaDominique Christina performs the poem "Mothers of Murdered Sons" at the 2016 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
By Linda HoganThis is the word that is always bleeding.
You didn't think this
until you country changes and when it thunders
you search your own body
By Dominique ChristinaWhen the sun is pitiless
When the girl is a gust of get out fast
When the boys are forced to mingle with the forest
When the baby, still nursing leaves her mother
By Andrea GibsonAndrea Gibson performs the poem "For Eli" at the 2010 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
By Maria Melendez KelsonMaria Melendez Kelson reads "For Light So Loved the World She Gave it More" at the 2014 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
By Linda HoganWe had been together so very long,
you willing to swim with me
just last month, myself merely small