Desne A. Crossley: A Wallflower and Her Mother
Clueless about west coast Whiteness, for sure. For my anxious mother, this meant I needed her singular brand of watchful encouragement to grow into a whole person, a whole woman—and to be taught some street smarts for life in suburban Palo Alto with its unfamiliar patterns and pitfalls.
Traci Brimhall: Museum of Fire
On the first story my son and I make the history of fire,
on the second he wants to make where we are, the slow
smolder of Kansas
Nicole Froio: Transforming Ourselves to Transform the World
The concept of cuerpo-territorio (“body-territory”) around which the Xinka women in Guatemala organize themselves recognizes the interconnectedness between human bodies and all other living beings.
Megan Merchant / Luke Johnson: Origin Story (An Epistolary Dialogue)
From our window, grosbeaks
and buntings tangle into flight. The hours count
earlier now, because of the way they are lit.
Martha Silano: Nothing I Did
My father said no infinity times, said all As,
no A-minuses. In 6th grade I devised a plan:
if I was perfect, if I made no sound.
Video: Spoon
In this visual poem, Markus Kempken explores specific objects — spoons, spatulas, flutes — and the way they trigger memories of his childhood abuse.
Paul Christensen: Second Sight
My mother was Italian, a passionate, sensuous woman who believed in fortune telling and heeding the voice of intuition, which was very strong inside her. She told me she had been born under a veil, meaning the amniotic sack at birth, and that this was the sign of her prophetic powers.
Wendy Mnookin: NICU
. Why is this night different Why is this night different from all other nights? Wine and matza and now our children tossing in their childhood beds, dreams tumbling between … Continue reading
Adrian Blevins: An Ode to the Erection
I sing, for my daughter, of shanks and shafts and the endearing contrast between the mind’s affairs and the body’s undiscriminating inclinations.
