There are dreams here / that I forgot to mention. // The same dreams I’ve had / before. The slow crank // of a wind-up toy, pretty / little thing. A mother calls // her son from a distance. / A marble is dropped // in a porcelain sink.
Haley Rene Thompson
Loot that holds / at the bottom of conversation. / “How do you ail?” I say. / I store old photos in a public place. / I speak an old style I got from / a book. Once it was given to me twice. / I don’t feel until you’ve started / speaking, how do you do? / Don’t ask, but answer.
Everything does weep, but oh / how it growls, when the wailing is done. / If anger, on the other side of fear, / is rage, this city was delivered to / death, with savage conviction.
Diver, Dive into Me
the sex there's space for something like / forgiveness maybe like with that fifty so / mething man those nights were my way of / shitting out the shame in my life even if
Nancy Chen Long
Continual Process Improvement for the Astute Young-Adult Student, Or Lesson as Lesion
Any Other Name
manuel arturo abreu
through All the World’s Futures
Rylan Steele & Nora Wendl
Dear Letter Dear World
poems inspired by Man Ray’s film “Emak Bakia”
Kissing in Public
from Mr. &
I FEEL YOU: A MIXTAPE OF ARTISTS OF COLOR BY ARTISTS OF COLOR