Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature. Over 15,000 daily subscribers. Over 7,000 archived posts.

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Earbug

Ah, it’s back. It hadn’t hummed in my head for years —
that achingly joyful accordion tango.

December 5, 2022 · 7 Comments

Wayne Karlin: Because You Are Not Here

Because you are not here
you are always here

October 11, 2022 · 10 Comments

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

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Dusk

Yet, while time takes its time to steal the light,
another music stirs, as if memory’s notes
had escaped their staff, & the past came to sing
beside me of its ordinary moments

July 6, 2022 · 8 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Lately,

Do you believe at times that a moment chooses
you to remember it entirely & tell about it —
so that it may live again?

June 11, 2022 · 3 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Evening

Gone. Another day gone. Its chest-
shredding tragedies or frivolous whims equally          
scavenged by dusk. Soon the wind will rest                            
in the messy trellis of my tree.

December 27, 2021 · 5 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Godwit Beach

Remember? It was late in the afternoon,
we walked a while along these limestone cliffs,
under the silver ghosts of eucalyptus trees.

November 22, 2021 · 4 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: After a Night of Rain

So I stop my busy nothingnesses & sit a while
at my good table, by the white bowl
edged golden by the sun.

October 25, 2021 · 1 Comment

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Complaint About Missing Friends after Ten Months of the Pandemic

Verlaine threw pail after pail after
cold water pail on the gravel under Rimbaud’s
windows, to cool the air as he slept.

September 6, 2021 · 2 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Parentage

I’m from the ocean’s melancholy, dragging
its anchors back & forth, never quiet, never
still, waves so restless they can’t mirror the moon.

August 18, 2021 · 6 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Then, you stop

Then, you stop weeping. Lift your face from your hands.

May 24, 2021 · 3 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Clouds Heave

His cat mourned better than I, lying
on her side for weeks across his room’s threshold

April 12, 2021 · 2 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Some evenings

Some evenings, he would hide his face in his hands
for a few seconds —

March 22, 2021 · 4 Comments

Vox Populi: You are invited

You are invited to attend a reading by some of the most talented poets in the country. The time is 8pmET Tuesday, March 2.

March 1, 2021 · 4 Comments

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