Altogether we were / uncountable, and another / of us we abandoned / at the shore.
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Peach Ode by Matt Poindexter
Sweet teenage goths, come back / from evening’s municipal cemeteries / and haunt the living for a minute.
Come In Go Ahead Say Again by Christopher Citro
Skies have moods. We gave these / to them. Named the rivers. Imagine that.
Two Poems by Court Castaños
An old man will watch us, openly / stare, two boys in a Nevada diner / leaning towards each other, a touch / too close.
Reductionism by Liz Harms
Any moment the doctor / will knock—the wait suspenseful, caught / breath before a jump scare.
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Elegy for Aunt Kate by Nora Gupta
"The fear of Death was spoon-fed to me— / the drear of black velvet drapes // over glossy wood coffins, heartbeats swallowed / but never digested."
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Monologue for a Wild Sprouted Onion by Rita Mookerjee
"the curse of my child who you will/ bury shallow in the ground without/ a second thought"
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A Normal Interview with Éric Morales-Franceschini by Victoria Monsivaiz
My poetry is indeed heavily indebted to my studies in history, psychoanalysis, political economy, and critical social theory; but I find that, at times, only via poetry can I adequately express the gravity and intricacy of not just a given fact, but what I should (like to) do in light of that fact.
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Laurels by Tara A. Elliott
"...arms now/ berry-covered branch/ —how awfully/ they must ache."
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A Normal Interview with Béatrice Szymkowiak by sami h. tripp
"I think art holds the power to shift and multiply perspectives, which the world desperately needs right now. Single-mindedness is dangerous. What I love about poetry in particular, is its capacity of subversion, of dissent, against ideas but also against language itself, as language and ideas are intertwined."
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The Sick Diet by Aimee Nezhukumatathil
because you left a good-bye note written on paper made of mummies.
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The Last Kiss by Lawdenmarc Decamora
I stay alive though, sensing velocity
as an ambulance would in a dream—
brisk, accidental. Remember the first time
your little bones cried for milk?
Two Poems by Sher Ting Chim
Why is it
when we die,
We always remember most
the song from our childhood?
My Country 'Tis: Listening to Ishmael Read by Ru Freeman
this King & Kennedy country
that fast draws
that kills slow
My Country 'Tis: Learning Their Letters by Ru Freeman
the justifiable fears
of waking from an American fantasy of arrival
in places that require defense, let him go.
My Country ‘Tis: Say My Name by Ru Freeman
they
said it was uncivil but not a crime, it is never a crime when
you die; should I begin from the beginning should I add the women,
Renisha, Rekia, Chantel, Tyisha, Yvette, Gabriella, Miriam, Jessica
Two Poems by Carol Matos
why do I devour myself/yet continue to grow new leaves?
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My Country 'Tis: Love, Philadelphia by Ru Freeman
Rocky is a myth in the air between
us untrue things this American
dream
Two Poems by Ángel García
A man sings for pesos,/on the corner, his hand/ swarmed by a song of bees
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Two Poems by Rita Mae Reese
I will give him this bird trapped in a doorway,
a mad heart in feathers and pulsing eyes.