Writing is an act of resistance
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Our Lady of the Hurricane
By Jackleen Holton Hookway wears knifepoint stilettos that she fashioned from the skin of water moccasins that slide underneath the dark slip of brackish floodwater when she takes them off and wades in up to her neck as the twin snakes slither ahead guiding her through a maze of underwater suburbs where she shatters…
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Costumes
By Stephanie Williams I didn’t shave all month Quiet, itchy rebellion. A silent wind-chime Should at least look the part. They marched I had prior commitments. I connected my daughter’s brows Put flowers in her hair. I posted pictures They asked if we’re Mexican. This year she’ll be a princess $40 on a pink…
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Silk Purse I: An Erasure
from Donald Trump’s Speech to AIPAC 3/21/16 By Douglas Wood The bomb clock doesn’t require a number but zero, No matter, The wiped face of the earth What kind of minds write in twisted missiles and the swirling terms imposed by disaster— disaster repeated in the hope it didn’t happen? But it’s precisely…
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The Night Journey
By Jonathan May A found poem from: FBI Guantanamo Bay Inquiry // The Night Journey, Sura 17, The Koran // Department of Defense Human Resource Exploitation Training Manual – 1983 The purpose of all coercive techniques is to induce psychological regression in the subject by bringing a superior outside force to bear on his will…
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Weathered Reports: Trump Surrogate Quotes From the Underground
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Black Birds
By Jennifer Stein Black birds the size I dream dinosaurs would be Cloud-cutting straight flying unflapping arms Like if you asked a kid to draw a bird Who never saw a bird, and threw his bulky crayoned visions to the clouds and here they are in soundless flight. Black birds, black and ominous as octopus…
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On a Side Street in Tehran a Woman Watches the Protest of Neda’s Death
By Penny Perry “Make up should be for your husband only,” my mother says in my head. In real life, she is home in her apartment, blowing cool air on her second cup of tea, filling out her grocery list. “You don’t need a clock, you can tell time by the tasks she performs,” my…
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Paul Ryan in Effigy
By Gigi Wagg You, Paul Ryan, who imagine yourself an emerging monarch, are really a moth—bat food, with the base, serviceable body of a military cargo plane: dusty, dull and fueled by heavy diesel. You circle the towers of Trump power, crashing your dumb head into pane after pane of trash-TV limelight, dutifully peddling disaster…
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Protest personalities
By Ruth McCole Women’s March, Boston, Massachusetts. Grim determination turns to gladness turns to awe We leave too early Afterward bells ring. Muslim Ban One, Boston, Massachusetts. A roiling, boiling storm-crowd Makes waves. A man shouts “You’re all going to hell” A sign reads “Jesus was a refugee.” Muslim Ban Two, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Nighttime scholar’s…