Stone
By Aideed MedinaDe piedra, sangre.
I make my own heaven. I drag it out of the streets, and inhospitable terrains. I mixed "tabique", brick, mortar with my hands, kneading,
I need, to make my own heaven
Search Results
The Seeds for Distinction*
By Jessica (Tyner) MehtaConductor drives us, the cow-
catcher barreling straight into the teeth
of Memory’s harshest winter.
From “Shadow Poems”
By Jennifer FoersterThe war appeared to be coming to an end.
The no-name people not yet taken
left their crops for summer’s drought.
Music Arises from Component Parts or The Dream of a Clarinet
By Tobias WrayOnce done,
my father pulled
the instrument apart.
Hull
By Lisbeth WhiteAt the end of the field are tracks
train metal iron sound called whistle
to me a blare that splits air before it
Latido
By Leticia Hernández-LinaresTus pómulos, the historic shape of your
temporal bones imitating the pirámides we carry, beating
blueprints inside of our lungs, stencil the heart
with the angles of the architecture we were born in.
Bill Pay
By Janice Lobo Sapigaowe don’t know how to pay the bills on time
and we don’t know the password to your bank account
& in all of our languages I understand why you stacked
linens and face towels and rubber bands and plastic bags
in drawers and hallway closets
everything filled to the brim
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Red-ish Brown-ish
By Trevino L. Brings PlentyArms, face, scrotum – dark brown.
The kind of brown to drive
monsters to exterminate
bison to starve
a people.
In Memory of Kamau Brathwaite
By Safia Elhilloi sat by the lake & ate five tiny oranges & every strand
of flesh & pith was my teacher
i grew warm & soft in the sun & from this ripening
made a poem to search for my teacher