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Shuri Kido (translated from the Japanese by Tomoyuki Endo & Forrest Gander)
A long slope.
The sun dipped, and finally sank.
No matter how long I walked, I stayed in "the middle of the road."
The name torn into pieces.
Just keeping on, climbing higher and higher
I'd completely forgotten the name.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 17, 2021
Peter Filkins
Shy panzer of the swamp, atavistic
in your haughty calm, you blink at us
encapsulated in our swanky Prius . . .
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 16, 2021
Danusha Laméris
I think of how I've come to call her sister, dropping
the suffix. We've known each other since
she was three and I was six. And I don't know
what a sister is if not an other, a fragile mirror, space
of tenderness. Female, and mortal, and afraid.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 15, 2021
Parker Hobson
There is a thin, curvy line
between laughter and slaughter, I try yelling
to you on the roller coaster but my timing
is off, our shark bodies flung
into runaway cursive, vestigial Converses dragging serifs
across the clouds.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 14, 2021
Derrick Austin
Today I'm happy by myself
wandering this creek's paths of sand and crushed shells,
what used to be submerged.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 13, 2021
Jane Wong
Above: my neighbor's feet, fussing from room to room,
velvet hooves tendering my head. Was the fruitcake
curdling? Would the mail make it there on time? (it must
make it there on time)?
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 12, 2021
Rosemarie Dombrowski
that the inventory of the body
is equivalent to
the trauma that comes from
crop-dust in our eyes . . .
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 11, 2021
I wanted to prove to people that there was a body of poetry, not just a poem in the canon, but a whole body of poetry out there waiting for them; it was speaking to them and was, in a sense, modeling how they could tell their own stories.
Result Type
- What Sparks Poetry
Feature Date
- October 11, 2021
TR Brady
the river, the rocks banking the river,
the rocks loved up on by the river,
are sharp and naked and new
as new as rocks can be and actual
and ugly in their unnature.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 10, 2021
Joan Naviyuk Kane
The light unevenly gray beyond the triple-pane:
maybe neglected, or itself, self-filtering.
Obscuring as it crystals into existence, as it
opaques the hoar on the fence & bract to branch
of all my trees. Our yard, my debt.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- October 9, 2021
