Tag: Last Word

  • “our next nominee should remember”: A Six-Poem Suite by Michael Chang

    “our next nominee should remember”: A Six-Poem Suite by Michael Chang

    our next nominee should remember ne-VAD-daalways moisturizehand sanitizer is your friendand clorox, for when you get to the oval officecheck what city you’re innever wrestle with pigs. you both get dirty and the pig likes it.look out for numero unoavoid kitchenslose the friends from back homefail oftenthe opposite of armor is curiosityif you do the…

  • “Trump or Wile E. Coyote?”: A Current Events Quiz by Tara Campbell

    “Trump or Wile E. Coyote?”: A Current Events Quiz by Tara Campbell

    Choose A, B, or C for each of the numbered items below:A) Real or proposed border control measureB) Scheme to capture Road RunnerC) Both 1) Firearms2) Cement3) Dogs4) Mirrors5) Gas (sleeping/tear)6) Electric spikes7) Black paint8) Invisible paint9) Dropping anvils10) Cactus Costume11) Shooting legs12) Portable hole13) Exploding tennis balls14) Giant balloons15) Misleading instructions16) Steel plates17) Moat…

  • Four Poems by Schyler Butler

    Four Poems by Schyler Butler

    If Forced to Join Maleatra Montanez know that he will sayyour legs burst wide like syrup pouredhis throat the drain what was he to dobut unload blame ontoyour blackstrap skinslaughter within youwhat little dignityremained, boy childof yours in the cornerforever tamed, anotherreceptacle of shame What the Devil Tells Me I wouldn’t blame your fatheror the…

  • Akusua A. Akoto: Three Poems

    Akusua A. Akoto: Three Poems

    Mother’s Dance #1 Mother does notWant to dance aloneCome childShe’s trying to bringYou into the musicOf her tears Her mouth is bleedingIn the center of this prayer.There is no waterIn her danceAs she stumbles forHer father Her hands are achingAnd in her pleaFor salvationShe is naked As hands touch herShe knowsShe will be raped againUnder…

  • Two Poems by Joanna C. Valente

    Two Poems by Joanna C. Valente

    I’m Tired of Men Telling Me They’re Afraid I’m Going to Write about Them It isn’t a dreamwhen you wake up with snakeswrithing over you your body like a gardena bed of leaves and ivy so twisted and overgrownand full of dirt, dry and barren that you are woken up again as a beasta womana…

  • Collaborative Poetry: “In a Late Stage” by Tony Mancus & CL Bledsoe

    Collaborative Poetry: “In a Late Stage” by Tony Mancus & CL Bledsoe

    In a Late Stage It’s not a question of outrunningthe bear; it’s a questionof perfectly seasoning the salmon. A man with no hair and a bagfull of herbs is slightly lessdangerous than a clutch of piranha. The equation starts with a soundunlike thunder, someone screamingnumbers into a small bowl. Arrange them just right, and you’ll…

  • “Four Poems by a Middle-Aged Woman”: Laura Lee Washburn

    “Four Poems by a Middle-Aged Woman”: Laura Lee Washburn

    After the Surgeon Cuts You or the bone snaps in eight places,the world recognizes youas the vessel for their trauma. Strangers say, Chasing the dog,my third toe snapped rightin half. Or Straight up! No break but seven stitches betweenthe smallest and next. I wasstabbed in the headby a guy in a white mask. Or, Doctor…

  • “Sa (funeral koans)”: Poetry by Yohnmean Yoh

    “Sa (funeral koans)”: Poetry by Yohnmean Yoh

    1 Secretary of State Dean Acheson actually greeted the invasion with relief, as it justified massive military appropriations that were essential to carrying out the vision of American pre-eminence outlined in the top-secret National Security Council Report 68 of April 1950. —Jeremy Kuzmarov, “The Korean War: Barbarism Unleashed” (2016)                          … rhetoric would not have…

  • Poetry by Tamer Sa’id Mostafa: from triliteral roots

    Poetry by Tamer Sa’id Mostafa: from triliteral roots

    —after Craig Santos Perez   [ra-ha-meem              (womb):] i named my first star               on a farmhouse roofin Kafr El Zayat                      flooding fennel seedinto the divots of a mortar                   an oud’s fifth stringdanced like a caudex [rahma            (compassion):] the moon blued its dust to our voicesa mother tongue unadulterated           a nasheedof desert roses surrendering    to their stems…