Poems about Immigration

Chicana like them
Growing up I was taught I a
Wounds
  In a day, a week, a month, a year wounds doze, they sleep they disappear, but this wound is
Jakarta and the Man in Motion
Walking at dawn through the city without a recent map seems strange.
Prestera
Prestera. men varför? - Makulera. men vad då? för att etablera mig, nya versionen som ändå klänger och sträcker sitt håll på minnes handt
Purpose of life
Purpose of life By: Alondra Martinez-V   The Instructor said,
Orange Clad is the American Colossus
The Tower lies in rapturous silence, The Margalite Palace ready themselves for wrath and ruin,
“Misinformation" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 13/8/2020
It Seems That MISINFORMATION’s Emanating From Stations... From Food To Education To This Corona Situation... !!!
Something to Gain
It started with a box. Left in that parking lot.
t1
I think he knows I’m alive, having come down The three steps of the back porch
Museum of Tolerance
The shirtless man by the ticket counter  has already broken the gloom here, his crowd

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