Linda Stern: At the Jetty
You climbed the jetty leading to the sea,
and I hung back to let you try your skill
at navigating life apart from me
though you were not so far I could not still
reach for you if you slipped and fell.
Daniella Toosie-Watson: A Series of Small Miracles
Listen: in this poem, there are no men.
I give to myself & give again.
Video: Landline
Landline is a short documentary about the only helpline in the UK for gay farmers.
William Shakespeare: Sonnets 18 & 19
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws
And make the Earth devour her own sweet brood
Miriam Levine: Let’s Go
That out queen
Mark Morris, hefty as he is, dances the role of Queen
Dido to measures of Purcell’s opera and, flashing his
long arms, makes Dido’s suicide lyrical.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar: “Breakfast Morning” by Jacques Prévert
He made smoke
Circles in the air
He put the ashes
Into the ashtray
Without speaking to me
Without looking at me
Nico Lang: Serving Justice
On stage and in the courthouse, these queens prove drag is not a crime.
Liz Theoharis & Shailly Gupta Barnes: The Christian Nationalist Vision for America
Project 2025: A New Pax Romana.
James Crews: The Poetry of Connection and Joy | A Conversation with Michael Simms
My husband is a farmer, so we often wake up before first light, and I go off on my own with a big cup of coffee to scribble in my notebook for a few hours.
Rose Mary Boehm: Sunsets on Mars are Blue
We’ll soon be sending settlers to Mars.
They’ll be sitting on their porches contemplating
the Martian sunsets.
A.E. Housman: White in the moon the long road lies
The world is round, so travellers tell,
And straight though reach the track,
Trudge on, trudge on, ’twill all be well,
The way will guide one back.
Richard Michelson: Three Poems
Today, I am weary of my soul, forever dragging behind me,
clanging for attention like tin cans left tied to a coupe fender
long after the sacred vows.
Charlotte Mew: Rooms
I remember rooms that have had their part
In the steady slowing down of the heart.
Daniel Edward Moore: The Fire Island Boys
Warhol wasn’t the only one who loved
those Fire Island boys; marble statues
cloaked in sand, whipped by pleasure’s
summer storms.
