Joshua Michael Stewart: The Book of Love
The love my partner and I share is a book we’ve read many times.
Tony Gloeggler: Some of the Things
Bean once told me, he never
hit a woman, as if it was a big
accomplishment.
Deborah Bogen: Three poems by Yongbo Ma
…thunder is like a guarantee that everything exists,
that the wine will not sour,
that the season will turn again,
as it always has.
Elizabeth Romero: O’Brien’s Funeral Parlor
The family, humble and resigned as a canvas jacket:
Their faces full of a still, impassive sorrow
Helene Johnson: Invocation
Let me be buried in the rainIn a deep, dripping wood,Under the warm wet breast of EarthWhere once a gnarled tree stood.And paint a picture on my tombWith dirt and … Continue reading
Video: Dick Allen reads If You Visit Our Country & Sleepy Old Towns
Born in Troy, New York, on August 8, 1939, Dick Allen is the author of eight poetry collections, including Present Vanishing (Sarabande Books, 2008). He received fellowships from the National Endowment for the … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Reflections on a Song by Kurt Weill and Maxwell Anderson and Other Intervals Between Two Points in Time
Looking out
the kitchen
window in the
dim early evening
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: To the Marine Fog
Look, I might not have woken up early enough
to watch you hang your rags over the hedge,
or loiter in the yard’s waning night, but I’m here
now — so linger by my window a little.
Floyd Collins: The Eternal Pearl
David Rigsbee’s version of Dante’s Paradiso captures memorably the dulce stil nuovo (“sweet new style”) adopted by thirteenth century Italian poets from the troubadours of Provence.
Michael Simms: Snow
her father sitting alone in his underwear
having stripped off his blackened clothes
and leaving them on the back porch,
white skin of his legs, black dust on his face
Sahar Rabah: May the Language Do You Justice
Walking barefoot on the thorns
Of your nightmares
Claude McKay: The Snow Fairy
My heart was like the weather when you came,
The wanton winds were blowing loud and long;
But you, with joy and passion all aflame,
You danced and sang a lilting summer song.
Lisa Zimmerman: Three Self-Portraits
In the first self-portrait you’ll see me perplexed, holding a painted egg in my hand, sage green with a tumble of pink roses and a yellow bird floating. The egg … Continue reading
Lisa Suhair Majaj: What She Said
She said, go play outside,
but don’t throw balls near the soldiers.
When a jeep goes past
keep your eyes on the ground.
