Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Elena Karina Byrne: Reality may still be unacceptable Gerhard Richter

A Repeating Dream I’m Belly-Down at Eleven
beneath barbwire like bedsprings during night-climbs

September 2, 2019 · 1 Comment

Sharon Fagan McDermott: This Against the Night

Sweet hyssop and the sweltering hives
from which sail bees, their resolute flight
into July, into my garden.

August 21, 2019 · Leave a comment

Elizabeth Kirschner: Jones Beach

He went out. Into the ocean’s black maw. To save. To rescue. Didn’t, as they say, come back. Death is funny like that, precise, dissolute.

August 4, 2019 · Leave a comment

Luray Gross: If Two People Are Aware of the Rising Moon

When his mind grew empty
and his heartbeat slowed to a vague stutter,
our father no longer walked the fields at night.

July 8, 2019 · 1 Comment

Carolyn Gregory: Listening to John Coltrane on my Mother’s Death Day

Swirling, confident, those sax notes stretch and blow
above the drums, full of his blue notes,
fifty years ago, new as now.

May 17, 2019 · Leave a comment

Carolyn Gregory: Leaving the Theatre of Dreams (for Peter)

Tonight I walk through spring sadness, the nostalgia of dreams remembered and foregone, familiar places where we wrote our own epitaph, misspoken lines and rooms seen in the wrong light … Continue reading

March 23, 2019 · Leave a comment

John Samuel Tieman: Elegy for a Poet

Michael Castro 1945 – 2018  while the snow wants to melt winter loiters and I will listen I will listen for you when I need a noun a sudden muscle an animal can use to … Continue reading

January 26, 2019 · Leave a comment

Philip F. Clark: Lacrimosa

Where I grew up, wakes were a sparring ground— furor was the only defense to grief. Someone had to fight the rant of all those flowers.   That is how … Continue reading

June 7, 2018 · Leave a comment

John Samuel Tieman: For a public school teacher

Brian Rutter 1982 – 2017 Today, the day after you died, all I remember is our classroom next door to each other, rooms filled with chalk boards, bulletin   boards, and … Continue reading

May 8, 2018 · 1 Comment

Claudia Nolan: Heard at a Funeral

  words were spoken, and underneath as though from distant ancestors the wail of yellow carnations impaled by long white pins on styrofoam hearts the rustling of roses an octave … Continue reading

January 9, 2018 · 2 Comments

Carolyn Gregory: What Remains

Every face has its stories of travel along the coast or mountains, memories of loved ones cherished or left behind   the rooms of beauty acquiring their peonies or cobwebs … Continue reading

October 25, 2017 · Leave a comment

Carolyn Gregory: Gathering Strength

When day begins with fog outlining the shapes to come, another good poet dead and the prospect of a bad president,   in the rain I take nothing but my … Continue reading

July 4, 2017 · 1 Comment

John Samuel Tieman: Half Past

for David Falk take fireflies for example when you were a kid you caught them in a bottle and let them flicker themselves to death in your bedroom fifty years … Continue reading

May 28, 2015 · Leave a comment

John Samuel Tieman: Midwinter

for all the trouble we go to to get the news on the lawn how we brave the strange wind in the linden tree brave the occasional black ice brave … Continue reading

February 19, 2015 · 1 Comment

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