Linda Parsons: Two Poems
Glad as I was to see
the wasp squirm in the web, shields aquiver,
lance of its ass lowered, I was not prepared
for her glittering approach.
Ted Kooser: Mudflaps
Out driving, I like to come up behind trucks
with mudflaps, chalky, slate-colored ones
hanging onto their hard jobs
Amy M. Alvarez, Jameka Harley: How Black poets and writers gave a voice to ‘Affrilachia’
A turning point took place 30 years ago, when Black Appalachian culture experienced a renaissance centered around a single word: “Affrilachia.”
Molly Fisk: You and I
the whole country snarled into such a hot mess
you wouldn’t recognize democracy if she
removed her skirts and danced on your lap for free,
pretending to like you.
Jo McDougall: This Morning
A woman laughs
and my daughter steps out of the radio.
Grief spreads in my throat like strep.
Janette Schafer: On the day I testify for Homeland Security
Janette agreed to share these details publicly to help allay the stigma, shame, and secrecy inherent with being a sex abuse survivor.
William Wordsworth: Lines Written in Early Spring
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
Kareem Tayyar: Gas Station
The Indian woman behind the counter
is reading The Upanishads when I enter.
The radio is playing a French chanson.
The photograph on the wall to my left
features John F. Kennedy…
Nina Kossman: Upon seeing a portrait of Genrikh Yagoda* on a wall in a Moscow police station
so many feet that did not run away,
so many mouths that did not speak,
so many inheritors of what can’t be described
Doug Anderson: Six-thirty AM
And the black lines the trees made at sundown yesterday
in one direction now point the other, saying
see what you missed in your life that was there all the time.
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: Darn Lucky
It happens, you know—the day opens itself
like a tulip in a warm room, and you meet someone
who amazes you with their willingness
to be a thousand percent alive
Video: There is Power in a Union by Joe Hill (with bio and lyrics)
From San Diego up to Maine,
In every mine and mill,
Where working-men defend their rights,
It’s there you find Joe Hill
Bhikshuni Mettika: Just in Case
The mountain went on holding me. Then it let me go.
Philip Levine: On The Meeting Of Garcia Lorca And Hart Crane
…let’s not
invent a dialogue of such eloquence
that even the ants in your own
house won’t forget it.
