when we banish tongues
By Tanaya Winderi.
we've entered a New World
Order on words, days
of economic deprivation
where only one percent thrives.
time is dictated by greediness
and fear, days when books
are banned by the belief
consumed.
Search Results
Ode to the Mulberry Tree In Our Front Drive
By Angela María SpringThough the jam did not set, great chunks of purple-black in jars
placed as offerings behind the kitchen counter butcher block
homemade experiment by my Central American-born mamá, who warned
us to keep a stern eye out, said you invade, take over swiftly
and she was right as our desert—so unlike the humid, temperate climes from which
you first emerged—urges you grow fast to claim any water to be found,
yet as a tree you are migrant/immigrant like us so of course Tucson
banned your presence as Arizona pulled Latinx books from schools
El Paso Uno
By Hakim BellamyNo one woke up, that Saturday, mourning. / No one woke up that Saturday morning with intentions of becoming a back to school vigil. / No one woke up not expecting to finish out a sophomore year...that had barely be- // gun.
from Dissolve
By Sherwin BitsuiFather's dying ceased
when he refunded this ours
for fused hands plaster-coated
Pause Hawk Cloud Enter
By Lauren CampThe soup cooks for an hour while vultures and buzzards pluck the market.
My father wipes his forehead with a white cloth.
Once, each day began with khubz and samoon
Standing Rock, Part I
By Veronica GolosHave I stepped back in time, or forward?
A graveled road, hovering flags, the sound
of waves against chunk rock -- and
voices billow into birds,
Criss Cross
By Arthur SzeArthur Sze performs the poem "Criss Cross" at the 2010 Split This Rock Poetry Festival.
Looking Back on the Muckleshoot Reservation from Galisteo Street, Santa Fe
By Arthur SzeThe bow of a Muckleshoot canoe, blessed
with eagle feather and sprig of yellow cedar,
is launched into a bay.