Sebastián Hasani Páramo

Somewhere, years ago, I ate dirt.
Somehow I forgot this dark.
I forgot beginnings. Who recalls
the Earth’s birth? Years go on. 

We become ruins, dust—oblivion.
The first brothers’ wisdom was to kill. . . .

Emily Hunt Kivel

The turtles are restful creatures, of course, once you get them fed, cleaned up, lolling about by warm rocks, breathing quietly under the sunlight. They’re restful creatures in general, even in times of duress, which is why I’ve got to be here, and why they’ve got to be here, at the sanctuary near Coconut Grove.

Lucien Darjeun Meadows

First the war, thousands of miles to the east. No. First other, older wars with forgotten names, unhousing and unhoming the Apache Nation. The Arapaho Nation. The Cheyenne Nation. The Pueblo. The Shoshone. The Comanche. The Kiowa. The Navajo. There is a river run red, there is a lake, there is a world on fire who can never be regained.

Zack Finch

Something happened to me one summer, four years ago. I was walking up the sidewalk not far from my house, when I saw a shoe lying by the side of the road. . . . It was, as I would later be able to describe it, a wedge sandal with a cork heel, with black canvas straps, and merona printed on the inner sole, size 8½. So what?