By Keith Holyoak

“Let me be clear—they also love their children

In their fashion, love their country too,

Whichever one they came from. But the question

Now is, can they tell us what to do?

And would you want one in your family?

Maybe the best are harmless, still they’re not

The same as us, could never hope to be—

What we have by birthright can’t be bought.”

By Linda-Raven Woods

We were born in the time of some waning moon, I think, 

when things all around were closing in, cinching tighter,

choking us about our own necks

& in this time we ceased to breathe, 

our pulse weak, because we had no heartbeat

once the drum had stopped.

By Mary Ellen Talley

Side altar

on the grass 

not far from

peopled path

This early morning path around Green Lake 

the only place I was getting any exercise

Large portrait

of a man

deceased and 

could not breathe

By Jo Grills

I will not be defeated. Humankind will learn to marvel at my skill, even if they never know of my existence. I don’t want to rule them, or to destroy them. I just want to test their resilience. Why? Put simply, because I enjoy it, there is no other reason. I enjoy playing games.

By J.I. Kleinberg

Click ‘read more’ link below to see her visual poem in a larger window as well as J.I. Kleinberg’s photo and bio.

By Pamela Carter

To an extent the consensus opinion to-day 

is that races in America point 

into earliest experiences. 

Through them we first learned love 

and habit, domain and pleasure, folk— 

under ordinary circumstances— 

sweet-tempered and believing we mean well.

Some can be saved by nectar. 

A solid hive. 

A mother of a kind disposition.