Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

John Samuel Tieman: After Jorge Guillén

You slept and your arms stretched and almost caressed
my insomnia.

February 19, 2021 · 1 Comment

Jan-Mitchell Sherrill: Two love poems

Come with me
to the river again: we will test Heraclitus,
kiss deep at the tender point of sleepless change.

February 14, 2021 · 1 Comment

Kenneth Fearing: LOVE, 20 Cents The First Quarter Mile

I forgive you for being beautiful and generous and wise.
I forgive you, to put it simply, for being alive, and pardon you, in short, for being you.

February 12, 2021 · 4 Comments

Scott Silsbe: She Got My Mind Messed Up

Is something burning? Is something here
on fire? It smells like something here is
burning or on fire. It might be in my head.

February 11, 2021 · 5 Comments

Edna St. Vincent Millay: I shall go back again to the bleak shore

I shall go back again to the bleak shore
And build a little shanty on the sand…

December 11, 2020 · Leave a comment

Emily Dickinson: I have no life but this

I have no Life but this —
To lead it here —

November 13, 2020 · 6 Comments

Doug Anderson: To Love Like This

To love like this…

October 31, 2020 · 1 Comment

Jason Irwin: Giuseppe the Shoe-Maker

Giuseppe, a simple shoe-maker,
who never learned English, stood
banging his head against the wall,
cursing God in his native tongue

October 27, 2020 · 2 Comments

S.B. Merrow: Craving

I’m talking about a night we spend
in the same body on the same smooth stones
on the bottom of the dry river
when a storm comes.

August 17, 2020 · 3 Comments

Doug Anderson: My mind is weighted toward sorrow

My mind is weighted toward sorrow
and I feel unbalanced when I walk.
There are old rooms there, certainly,
that I’ve now abandoned, with their coffee spills
and unmade beds…

July 30, 2020 · 3 Comments

Michelle Bitting: Ode to Sex with You

lips two wild pulsing fish
swift bubbles of nothing
moaned into the air’s
naked ear

July 8, 2020 · 1 Comment

Doug Anderson: How it happens

God help me, I don’t know where I’m going.
We hold each other’s hand like children
finding our way home among the closing wolves.

May 19, 2020 · 4 Comments

Edna St. Vincent Millay: I shall forget you presently, my dear (Sonnet IV)

I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day

May 8, 2020 · Leave a comment

Emily Dickinson: Wild nights — Wild nights!

Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

May 8, 2020 · Leave a comment

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