Grace Hussain: For Siċaŋġu Nation, Taking Food Sovereignty Back Means Eating Climate-Friendly
Mushrooms, bison, and foraged plants offer a critical mix of new and old food traditions.
Alfred Corn: All It Is
The flexible arc
described by treetop leaves
when breathing currents ripple
a branch to one,
then the other side.
Andy Young: Ash Wednesday 2020
Sitges, Catalunya We slept to the clatter of the sea and rose to search for the weeping drag queens displaying their mourningbehind the king’s erect effigy paraded to the sea … Continue reading
Matthew J. Parker: Pardon Me
The reason for the assault was absurd – an imagined slight over a game of cutthroat pinochle we had played earlier that day.
Baron Wormser: Bernie
Only one politician has come forward with a coherent response that he has taken to the people concerning what is occurring in the second administration of Donald Trump.
James Crews: Hello, Little Sun
On the rusty tin roof of a red barn
in rural Quebec, someone has carved
the words, Bonjour, petit-soleil—
Hello, little sun
Julia Conley: Thousands in Midwestern GOP Districts Attend Sanders’ First Stops on Tour to Fight Oligarchy
“The energy around what Bernie is doing is insane….”
Amal Ahmed: Rebuilding Food Security After a Wildfire
A coalition in Oregon is fighting to expand access to food assistance—regardless of immigration status.
William D. Hartung: In Stunningly Bright Colors
Enrico Muratore Aprosio’s Cry for Common Sense and Common Humanity,
Abby Zimet: For Cruel, Stupid, Dastardly Deeds Done and Proposed
Gandhi famously said, “Civil disobedience therefore becomes a sacred duty when the State has become lawless.”
Molly Fisk: Two Poems
Part, partial, apart, apartheid,
apartments invaded, a woman
shot though she too was a piece
of the continent, she was a part
of the main.
Mary B. Moore: The Birds of Cutting
I’m tired today and blue to boot.
Nothing buoys me, yesses my no’s.
Even the cardinal on the fence,
a dusky girl, isn’t all red
like cardinal boys
Robinson Jeffers: Love the Wild Swan
I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade’s curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: You Belong
It’s not true our hearts are our own—
they’re symbiotic as meadows in spring.
The heart exists for who grows in it.
