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Palmetto Moon

In Charleston, black folks know ghosts are always among them on the cobblestone streets, jaggedly outlined in salt, their shackles rusted. In Charleston, black children grow blacker under the southern sun—ever the watchful eye of all human misdeeds. In Charleston, white oaks are not just trees but platforms, shelters, the ...

Fishers of Men

He said to throw our nets and rodsthe other side of the boat—a little guy, only yay highwalking on the surf like he could float. He looked like his feet were the wateror something beneath held him up—like he was a son of the plastera flicking paint piece from the stars. So somebody let him walk on waterthat God first ...

This River, This Stone

She pauses by the river, stone in hand. A willow dangles, touching pools where light is caught and salmon ripen for their run. The maples let go, red leaves stick to boots and this small weight held in her palm is all and nothing. Edges–smoothed by currents, time, and chance–begin and end in water’s womb. The surface holds ...

The Grub Street Grackle Poetry Stimulus

Congress isn't going to do it. Nancy Pelosi has dug in her heels and won't pass a poetry stimulus bill that doesn't include 100,000 lines of epic verse. Mitch McConnell steadfastly declines even to call a vote on this vital issue. Meanwhile AOC and Ted Cruz are just fighting ad nauseam on Twitter about whether or not a defective ...