I recover each tiny thorn that’s / lodged itself into my sky-worn eyes. / Los ancantilados rojo han pinchado / el piel mío.
In the name of the rock. In the name of the lily blossom. / In the name of white paint smeared across a tomb.
By Donnalyn Xu
“without the rain i undress the night myself / like the skin of bruised fruit”
By Lise Goett
“Alden is a bookman. // The gift of a great bookman lies in his ability to pick out the right book for anyone”
By Gale Acuff
“after Sunday School this morning I / expressed my concern to my teacher and / her answer was tears and a silent weeping”
By Tarik Dobbs
“The body compounds / lack: when the mother lacks light, does her child / inherit absence? Today, / I sleep in a room with no / blinds. Do I carry radiation/ like a sadness? Do I irradiate generations?”
By Jake Bailey
“I’ve heard / that water makes up most / of an argument / I’ll drink whatever / someone gives / this body is a sponge”
“I couldn’t breathe. No one was to blame. / It was spring. Buds were busy / mocking me, proving we could live / through many deaths.”