Tag: Poetry
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SEPTEMBER INTERVIEW with LIZA HUDOCK
Addiction, death, and loss are everywhere in Liza Hudock’s debut collection, Reveille (released by Flood Editions in August), but they are not its actual subject. Instead, the poems wrestle—as near as it can be stated—with the world the speaker inhabits. Whether she turns her attention to a moth, the comparison between a pumpkin and a…
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SEPTEMBER INTERVIEW with Julia Thacker
Julia Thacker’s debut collection To Wildness was recently awarded the Anthony Hecht prize by Paul Muldoon. The book makes its way through the wilds of New England, grieving the family born and buried there. To Wildness is enamored with the world of sense, yet lingers close to the realm of the dead. It is elegiac,…
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THE BABIES by Dara Yen Elerath
I am watching the babies. The gray one in sticky pants who keeps picking his nose. The pale one with headlice, scabies and fleas. I am watching the babies. This one choking on a plastic bottle. This one talking to itself in the dark. I am hauling the babies to the park, to the library,…
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YESTERDAY AUSTIN TOLD ME TWO SWANS by Arro Mandell
drowned a local man for coming too close and Thomas and I laughed but I still think if I don’t count my teeth they’ll be taken, can’t be careful enough out here. Last night I stepped onto a stage heaped with dead fish. I was looking for the right earrings…
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PASSTHROUGH by Haley Lee
After the play we talk while we wait for the C with our shoes touching on the platform. Say, when the magician unrolled the sea, an old tunnel in us burst open. Lights off, all air – with you I believe in water wrung from paper. They didn’t need to use names to make us…
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GOLD by Kunjana Parashar
Lately, I’ve been yearning for things: car keys, houseplants, dhurries, cubes of ice, petals, but really for something skin-deep. I keep addressing myself as we; like I am the bull & I am the matador. I am the prayer and the devotee. We are prying open our mouths to sing. We are the ear and…
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BLUE PERIOD by James O’Leary
It’s 9:31 PM where the end of the city tinges the sea. An empty spiderweb hangs motionless between the blinds & the closed window leaking the street’s neon onto the unmade bed. No moon. Not even the comfort of wine, bottles shaped like the body I want, & will never have.…
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THE YEAR YOU DIED by Vasvi Kejriwal
05/19: A tornado flung a fridge into the bones of a tree. Its bark, gnarled, like the mouth of someone, new to grief. 05/22: I found your pen at the edge of the dresser. Yet to collect dust, it held your fading fingermarks. 06/18: Then, hunger…
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TWO POEMS by Caroline Richards
Recovery poem with jargon After reading Auden, I water my moth orchid with ice cubes and watch a girl with green hair draw a benzene ring in white erase. I pay attention to time. I arrange my table of books into heiroglyphs and try to say something before the sun sets. In Midsummer Night’s…
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TWO POEMS by Corinna Rosendahl
from Scenes from the Seconds It was written for an exhibition that at the end of her life Louise Bourgeois circled back to her birth1 When I did as asked like long hair I pulled my fire back 1Unknown *** Henceforth and forever I am my own…
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PARIS by Elly Bookman
At seventeen I gazed a good ten minutes at Saint Catherine Labouré’s incorruptible palms around a rosary. Soon I’d learn to drive a manual transmission, the backward N of the ascending gears. The still-war had been on for more than a year, and there was something so similarly earned in her un-atrophied grip. I…
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FLEVATO by Richard Siken
We are going to poison the rats, announced the Transit Authority. They had posted fliers but no one was reading them. The subway was crowded. I was late and trying to think diagonally, up and around the corners. I wasn’t used to it. I grew up in a flat land where there was no descending.…