What I Heard

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] What I Heard I heard my son William and my students who have Autism crying out in fear, trying to find the right words to match the pictures in their heads, to match the confusion of what was happening to their bodies, to explain what neurotypical Black men cannot explain in these situations “I What I Heard

Three Poems by Kelly Harris

Solidarity Capitalism 1. If solidarity meantour freedomall liveswould be written in bullet bloodbreath would be more thanbrand. 2. We stand with you—now here’s 20% offour next bullshit. 3.Mega whitepreachers:All green blessings matter,Amen? 4.Need Black writersand people of colorto create the clicksneeded for cash. 5.Juneteenth—a new paid holidayto market freedomto consumers whowant a not racist coupon. Three Poems by Kelly Harris

Police Blotter

Today is normal. I wake up to red badges of notification on a screen. Each morning, I allot the five minutes after my eyes open to scrolling them. Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. WhatsApp. Slack. Gmail. Tumblr. I hate the sight of the numbers in the corner so I clear them as quickly as I can, leaving Police Blotter


Can I run If no one is chasing Me? Lighter than’ Air, will I glide Above cracked asphalt? The roar of an engine. Cracked air. Rifle Shot. Uglier than The 4th of July. The Period on life’s Sentence. Gun clubs And viral footage. Days in a winding chain The color of sunlight And then black. Umpteenth

Sight & Sound ((I.) March)

The cadaver dogs downstairs are barking. As though making a sound will fix anything—any of this—I tell me, reflected in glass— Curdling a self into an imagined resuscitation of some politics is a joke not worth telling for no one to laugh at. Enter cadaver dog. Outside, the magnolias bloom their white petals pristine cups, Sight & Sound ((I.) March)

Dirty South (uncut and distant)

–For Mannie Fresh where the symbols of slavery drawn down to a blocking, would you sing here what it means to be priced, put cash money on living, here in the clay by the river, better get money you can flash, yeah, built a city on the backbones, on the calcium deposit silt on the Dirty South (uncut and distant)

By Easter

Poetry by Alex Jennings     I I saw you standing by the hearth– Your buckled leather shoes The stern cut of your coat Colorless hair gathered back With ribbon. Spilled my morning Tea. I burned my own wrist. Cried Out in the dim of morning. And as The scripture says, “…And then he was By Easter

Quarantine Poems

A Calico Cat named Mississippi peaks out of a courtyardbush

Poetry by Cate Root     Grief   I cry for the quarters my friend lathered with soap and water. Imagine them set on a napkin. Imagine them drying in the sun. Imagine stacks of fresh laundry. Imagine that we could be clean. Imagine safe. I can’t come up with another image here. I am Quarantine Poems

Passwords for this Moment

New Orleans poet Nikki Mayeux shares daily art prompts to support the essential activity of creation When quarantine started, I knew I wanted to create a daily artistic practice in the way that you know you should probably drink some water before heading out to Krewe du Vieux. It’s a wise way to care for Passwords for this Moment


Carmin Wong is a Guyanese-born poet, playwright, and second-year MFA student at the University of New Orleans. She is currently the Associate Poetry Editor of Bayou Magazine. In 2018, Wong was featured in the Women’s Voice Theater Festival held at the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. She has performed in poetry slams BROKEN ENGLISH