With the year half over, the sun sailing high, and the ferns repotted, we're asking ourselves the big questions. When was the last time someone saw you naked? Have you ever let a glacial current catch you? Are you playing by the rules? Are you playing with your friends?
Let the sun seep into your mind, through a thousand tiny capillaries, and out your _________. You know you want to. Send the outcome to firstname.lastname@example.org.
1 - Valerie Wu
THIS LAND OF COLOR OF MINE
From sea to shining sea / the flag stretches. Confined / within the borders of my continent / & still invisible. / There is no more Manifest Destiny. There is nowhere / to go. I am wondering / about the country I have to cross / the country that I have crossed / the country that I will cross. / Several different tenses of being / am I is or was? / My inheritance comes from the travels already passed. Foreigners / searching for gold in the West / gold slipping through their fingers / the pan is never at the right angle. My father yells / tells me that this is his dream, dream, dream / his migration pattern has always / defined him. But not me & never me. Indivisible / not invisible. / The sun blazes down on the backs of laborers. / The sun is yellow, the color of their skin / but the metal is gray & nothing is ever black & white. / Purple mountains / majesty. Brotherhood (and sisterhood.) / The Statue of Liberty holds up her torch. Justice / & freedom. Opportunity is / gold flecks in the water. / Completed in 1869, the Transcontinental Railroad / connected each coast of the United States to the other. / A hyphen / as artery of America. / I wonder about the connection / between people and places and nations / and wish that I was connected too. / I speak, but my voice is unheard. / The veins, carrying blood back. / America, asking: what color do you bleed? / What color do you bleed?