Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature: over 400,000 monthly users

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Infinitives

To dust it — not often enough. To stare at it — too often.
To never open it anymore. Keep his ashes hidden.

September 19, 2022 · 12 Comments

Michael Simms: The Horses

People loved her as they might love
A flag or a map or a story
Of a country of green pastures
And low stone walls

September 9, 2022 · 26 Comments

Michael Simms: You Taught Me

you pointed
At the bubbles rising in the pitcher
Of beer to explain consciousness
Which was blurred by that time
Of evening

August 11, 2022 · 11 Comments

Baron Wormser: Oona

When you have a dog, you get to participate in another creature’s being, a creature who wants to be with you, a human being.

August 6, 2022 · 21 Comments

Doug Anderson: We Get Old, We Get Sick

How we stumble, are glib
in the face of our fear
when we might show
our own raw heart

August 4, 2022 · Leave a comment

Terry Blackhawk: So Here

So here I’ve gone and reframed your painting, the one of the street with its tilted telephone poles, the street that led me into sleep so often now bordered by an eggplant purple, very trendy and advised by the decorator to pick up the purples and greens of other pieces in my room…

August 3, 2022 · Leave a comment

Toi Derricotte: For my unnamed brother (1943-1943)

you live this
life i’ll live the
next

July 25, 2022 · Leave a comment

Tony Gloeggler: What Anyone Knows

Diagnosed
with mental retardation and cerebral
palsy, he spent his early childhood
in Willowbrook hell.

June 23, 2022 · 16 Comments

Michael Simms: Uvalde

The swelling and collapsing
Of a small promise more
Tentative than we knew

June 4, 2022 · 27 Comments

Carolyn Miller: By the Time

By the time the light reaches us, empty
sunflower fields are pitted with more craters.

May 18, 2022 · 2 Comments

Jim Daniels: Strawberry

the final time I saw my mother
she was trying to find
the last strawberry on her plate

May 8, 2022 · 2 Comments

Valerie Bacharach: Passover

I lay a Haggadah by a chair,
unoccupied.
Unearth my Seder plate,
place upon it shank bone, egg, parsley,
bitter herbs. My bitter tears.

April 20, 2022 · 1 Comment

Jeffrey Harrison: Disconcerting

The word became the mantra of
her last few years, which were, in fact,
often disconcerting: her descent
into dementia, her cancer diagnosis,
her fall, her fractured hip.

April 5, 2022 · 3 Comments

Susan Kelly-DeWitt: The Moon Is Doing The Australian Crawl

my mother has worked her way up 
through the wave-rungs
of the spirit-corps’ fleshless ladder—
secretary of the afterworld

January 6, 2022 · 2 Comments

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