Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature. Over 15,000 daily subscribers. Over 6,000 archived posts.

Molly Fisk: In Other News

I can easily find
the edges now between anger, rage,
and disappointment by what’s running
underneath and stop before I lash out.

November 2, 2022 · 6 Comments

Molly Fisk: Full Flower Moon Lunar Eclipse

It was me, stepping out the front door
every six or eight minutes to look up
into a cloudy sky that darkened
and opened.

October 6, 2022 · 7 Comments

Molly Fisk: Austerity

I love the bare, the necessary: tree without leaves,
man with no clothes. Muscle and skin, bark, knot,
scar, and stubble. Dignity planted before us without
apology.

August 8, 2022 · 7 Comments

Molly Fisk: Parsing

the pounding heart
subsiding slowly, slowly, til it’s just a noun again, returning
to its steady beat of subject, verb, adverb, object

January 5, 2022 · 3 Comments

Molly Fisk: Devotion

The mergansers fly so close to the surface
their feet could touch it, banking up
from gray waves to paler sky

November 1, 2021 · 5 Comments

Molly Fisk: Phil, Who Loved the Giants

The bra I took off at 4:45 through the sleeve of my dress
and put down somewhere I find on my grandmother’s hutch
in the kitchen, incongruous, surrounded by jars of jam

June 7, 2021 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: You and I

the whole country snarled into such a hot mess
you wouldn’t recognize democracy if she
removed her skirts and danced on your lap for free,
pretending to like you.

May 10, 2021 · 3 Comments

Molly Fisk: How to Stop

It depends on the way you were broken:
Body from soul? Mind from memory?

April 12, 2021 · Leave a comment

Molly Fisk: Native Landscape

Back then, the new growth on redwoods was the brightest
green and tasted of citrus, a good vitamin source if you were lost
in the woods, which I wasn’t, I was pure found girl skipping…

October 19, 2020 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: She Lived to See

ate only bites but
always well: warm boysenberry pie,
bone broth matzoh ball soup

July 20, 2020 · Leave a comment

Molly Fisk: God Speaks to the Rope Swings of Summer

in his gentlest voice, reminding them
about change, about fallow fields and the quiet
everything needs to grow stronger

June 17, 2020 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: The Lineage

the poets, tethered to each other
in the popular mind as if we were one
big family and we are

April 6, 2020 · 8 Comments

Molly Fisk: Elegy (for Leah)

her infinite soprano
and my street drawl voicing words that could
depress a saint

March 9, 2020 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: Firmament

Daylight and darkness are real, and seasons,
but everything else is a story…

December 2, 2019 · 1 Comment

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