Search

Refine your results

Clear Search Results

Li-Young Lee
Because my father walked the earth with a grave, determined rhythm, my shoulders ached from his gaze. Because my father's shoulders ached from the pulling of oars, my life now moves with a powerful back-and-forth rhythm . . .

Result Type

Feature Date

Because as a dancer I’d devoted myself to linearity—the ballets I grew up on were mostly narrative, and even the semi-abstract pieces I performed had clear emotional arcs (beginnings, middles, ends)—one of poetry’s first appeals was its ability to refute temporal order.

Result Type

Feature Date

Ahlam Bsharat (translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah)
We had a cow, Obeidah the cow. She had big wide eyes but the whole herd had big wide eyes. She was dappled but the rest of them were dappled.

Result Type

Feature Date

Melissa Broder
The sky told me nothing about myself The stars told me nothing about myself Jupiter gave me zero Except that I am dust

Result Type

Feature Date

Tishani Doshi
The stormtroopers of my country love their wives but are okay to burn what needs to be burned for the good of the republic often doing so in brown pleated shorts and cute black hats with sticks

Result Type

Feature Date

Giovanni Pascoli (translated from the Italian by Geoffrey Brock)
Three grapes, Giacinto, grow upon these vines: The first is pleasure, and is clear as air; the next is sweet amnesia. Drink their wines,                                       yes—but stop there . . .

Result Type

Feature Date

Nava EtShalom
I woke up from marrying my father; the window let in a little streeplamp shine. None of us knew what time it was. The streetlamp thought three. The boy thought morning, and started to wake.

Result Type

Feature Date

Marjorie Welish
                                    Itself Sedentary in another language is language as such           Whether or not we can read it, sought          Because home. . .

Result Type

Feature Date

Brigit Pegeen Kelly
Strange about the kills we get without intending them. Because we are pointed in the direction of something. Because we are distracted at just the right moment, or the wrong.

Result Type

Feature Date

And so it was there, in my bakery, in one corner of which I had a horrid shaggy green armchair I’d scavenged, that I first chanced upon Brigit Pegeen Kelly’s “All Wild Animals Were Once Called Deer” (BAP 1995). What, exactly, was it doing? How did it mean?

All I knew, as I stood in my bakery that night, and the nights that followed, reading and rereading Kelly’s poem, was that I wanted that. In my life. Right now. It was worth changing my life for. That. That was the what that I wanted.

Result Type

Feature Date