Chivas Sandage: The Endless War Begins Again
I tell my wife about the young woman who covered herself in leaves
under a tree, did not move, and barely breathed for hours.
I tell her about the girl who escaped.
David Kirby: Two Poems
Let us be like my friend Rick’s grandma,
who Rick remembers trotting alongside the car as his dad
drove him and his brother down the long driveway from
her house, tapping on a window until one of the boys
rolled it down so she could ask, “Did you get enough pie?
Dawn Potter: Why, as the evening steps forward,
as the late noise of traffic, of shrill birdsong,
dies away, do I always recall
those brief summers, when the old folks
reclined in the grass on the hill
Donna Spruijt-Metz: Person
I wouldn’t call you back—not
to a body that would be unable
to walk the mountains freely. Even though I miss you—
even though the hole you left in me is vast—please—
trust me.
Askold Melnyczuk: The Enamel Box
The father smokes a pipe, instructs the child:
“Cultivate wheat and a conscience.
In a pinch, forfeit
the conscience
but save that wheat.”
Langston Hughes: Let America Be America Again
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Bill Knott: Our Farewells Lack the Plausibility of our Departures (Three paintings)
Bill Knott ((1940 – 2014) was an American poet and artist known for his wild originality.
Ron Koertge: An Old Farmer
still has a few cows and goats he helped into this world, then fed with a bottle. They follow him everywhere, eyes rolled up in adoration.
Barbara Crooker: Economics 101
What if the GDP was really made up of birdsong,
the limitless arithmetic of joy?
Randy Minnich: Of Moths and Men
As oceans warm and creatures die,
the billionaires from glassed-in offices demand
Drill, Baby, Drill.
The world is upside down.
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: The One Great Story
we might find we are held
by strands of birdsong, by the even beat
of eagle’s wings, by the blue moonlight
that reflects off the snow.
Brad Peacock: Pride (Two Poems)
You can scrub letters from websites
You can take away our healthcare
You can do your best to strip away our humanity
We will not be erased
Miriam Levine: Ego Is Not Your Amigo: Cop to It, Mim
You love the language of Twelve Step meetings—
don’t drink even if your ass falls off,
shitty committee, issues in the tissues,
attitude of gratitude, stinkin thinkin, dry drunk
Louise Bogan: Song For The Last Act
Now that I have your face by heart, I look
Less at its features than its darkening frame
Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,
Lie with quilled dahlias and the shepherd’s crook.
