Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: Why I Stay Up Late Walking
Easier to be the one
who is gathered into
the field of darkness
by night’s great hands
Video: Naomi Shihab Nye reads her poem Gate A-4
I heard an announcement:
“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please
come to the gate immediately.”
Eva-Maria Simms: The Playbook of Dictatorship Redux
From my family stories and my readings of political philosophy and history, the following picture emerges, which shows the building blocks of a totalitarian dictatorship. I offer it here as a warning from a German immigrant to my fellow citizens in the United States.
Toi Derricotte: Not Forgotten
I love the way the black ants use their dead.
They carry them off like warriors on their steel
backs.
H.D: The Flowering of the Rod
O, give me burning blue
and brittle burnt sea-weed
above the tide-line,
as I stand, still unsatisfied,
under the long shadow-on-snow of the pine.
Edwin Arlington Robinson: Eros Turannos
She fears him, and will always ask
What fated her to choose him
Majid Naficy: Ruthless Gods
I detest the world
Which has given its heart
To ruthless gods
Abby Zimet: Cosmic Jokesters Buy Cesspool of Hate-mongering Psychopath Who Is Not Taking It Well
We salute the supremely ironic sale of Alex Jones’ vicious Infowars – now bankrupt thanks to the $1.4 billion he owes Sandy Hook families for claiming the massacre of their children was a hoax – to the satirical wise-acres of The Onion, working with those families.
James Crews: Two Poems
We keep going back to the rocky beach,
searching for the glint of sea glass
Nan Levinson: A Democracy of Voices (If We Can Keep It)
Threats to Free Expression in the Trump Era
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: Wilding
I crave it, this scraping away
of everything that isn’t
limb-thrash and lung-gasp
and skin-scream and heart-bang
Baron Wormser: The Wand
Like many born in the years after World War Two, I spent a portion of my childhood watching Disney cartoons on television and in the movie theater. One thrilling aspect … Continue reading
Fleur Adcock: Weathering
I was never a pre-Raphaelite beauty,
nor anything but pretty enough to satisfy
men who need to be seen with passable women.
