Iman Chahine Sharba: God of Dreams
God passed away empty handed
But with regret
And like a sly boy
Broke with his shoe
the last dry loaf of bread.
Peter Makuck: Grackles
But after a few minutes
they become bold and
like dark thoughts
return
Sally Bliumis-Dunn : Echolocation
I saw one once—heaved onto the sand with kelp
stuck to its blue-gray skin.
Heavy and immobile,
it lay like a great sadness.
Video: Patti Smith sings “The Tyger” by William Blake
Through song and story, Patti Smith gives us new insight into the transcendent genius of William Blake.
Sarah Gordon: Acta Sanctorum
Aldhelm danced like a clown in the public square,
to win hearts, then souls, he said, and we love him
for that impish joy, that easy surrender
Muhammad Aurangzeb Ahmad: The Muslim tradition of sci-fi and speculative fiction
The short story ‘Sultana’s Dream’ (1905) by Rokeya Sakhawat Hussain, a Bengali writer and activist, takes place in the mythical realm of Ladyland. Gender roles are reversed and the world is run by women, following a revolution in which women used their scientific prowess to overpower men.
Video: A Love Poem for Lonely Prime Numbers
Performance poet (and math student) Harry Baker spins a love poem about his favorite kind of numbers — the lonely, love-lorn prime. He also has a complaint about Paper People. Here are two lively, inspiring poems from this charming performer.
James Wright: Northern Pike
We prayed for the game warden’s blindness.
We prayed for the road home.
We ate the fish.
Jason Irwin: Monster
On rainy nights when the roof leaked,
when the bills piled up, nights I lay in the hospital
waiting for X-rays or surgery
the monster’s shadow stained the walls.
Luray Gross: Fox Follows
At noon, fox lolls in the sun
rises and trots, pausing now and then
to look my way.
Majid Naficy: George Habash Sandwich
We returned from a Trump protest
And wanted to walk in Golden Gate Park.
We stopped at a sandwich shop
Which smelled like Tehran.
Sandra McPherson: On the Abundance of Shell Hinges after a Storm
How have these ligaments
held, for their umbones, each life’s intention
of never letting go?
Michael Simms: Antbed
You may remember my father
died when I was eight
my mother closed up
the house and we went to stay
with my grandmother for a few months
Video: Fence
Kosovar filmmaker Lendita Zeqiraj shows us a group of French women from different generations of the same family loudly confronting each other with their views on life, love, desire, race, men, and the patriarchy. The family gathering turns into chaos while the youngest one – the only boy – looks for an escape.
