Pablo Otavalo: If you stood any closer you’d be underground
Help me dress these wounds with words
Richard Krawiec: The Eyes of Hiroshima
My father was a sailor in the first group of ships to land in Hiroshima after the atomic bombs were dropped in WWII.
Brett Wilkins: The ‘Bigoted Conspiracy Caucus’ in US Congress
“Invasion and great replacement theory rhetoric, both deeply rooted in white nationalist and antisemitic tropes, are no longer a bug on the Hill, they are a regular feature,” said one campaigner.
karla k. morton: The Next Generation
Not knowing the spring of 1980
would be the worst drought
in the history of Texas,
my father sod an entire acre.
It was my job to water.
Baron Wormser: Complicity | On Alice Munro
Munro has been likened to Chekhov but if one is looking at Russians the pertinent one seems to me to be Dostoevsky.
Darnell Arnoult: Beneath Love & View From Space
Awful bucktoothed eyes flash
beneath Love’s crazy room. Round
and round, come again and again.
Believe in Death. Believe in Love.
Video: No Vegans Allowed
This motel decided to ban vegans and their mighty libido.
Michael Simms: Two Summer Songs
I can’t help but be in love
with the blissful light of lemonade at noon
And gazpacho in the evening
a slice of lime hanging by its wound
Barbara Huntington: Lost in Translation | Thoughts on Poetry After My Stroke
Then I became an erasure poem.
Sadakichi Hartmann: Why I Love Thee?
Ask why the seawind wanders,
Why the shore is aflush with the tide,
Why the moon through heaven meanders
Like seafaring ships that ride
Abby Zimet: Unspeakable | We Are Swimming In A Pool of Blood
Israel’s blithe defiance of both world censure and ICJ rulings goes on apace.
Tony Gloeggler: Thirteen
I want to book an early
morning flight, drive over
the hills, ride to the rescue
like John Wayne’s cavalry.
Verifying facts in the age of AI – librarians offer 5 strategies
Knowing good search techniques can help internet users sift through a more reliable set of results.
Sally Bliumis-Dunn: The Milkmaid
And what luxury of looking,
knowing that you won’t be seen
by the milkmaid,
gaze fixed upon her task,
her eyes downcast
beneath a crisp white cap
