Yu Xiuhua (translated from the Chinese by Fiona Sze-Lorrain)
—when I flick a speck of cigarette ash, another has arisen I love someone to death Another is in my belly Rain sounds different in different places
from the book
Moonlight Rests on My Left Palm /
Astra House
What Sparks Poetry is a serialized feature in which we invite poets to explore experiences and ideas that spark new poems.
In Books We’ve Loved, we asked our editorial board members and select guest editors to reflect on a book that has been particularly meaningful to them in the last year, with the intention of creating a list of book recommendations for our valued readers.
- June 27, 2022
Threa Almontaser
As designated translator, I taste saffron, gold coins,
a slight burning. Since I’ve returned, there has been less
of me in English. Though return always meant measuring
the earth’s door, tongue ozoned and still learning
- June 26, 2022
Chelsea B. DesAutels
Above the prairies now plowed
to farmland a wake of buzzards circles
something dead in the field.
- June 25, 2022
Tony Hoagland
Because it is all right to be in a bad mood there,
slouching along through the underground garage...
- June 24, 2022
Mosab Abu Toha
My father gave me a difficult name.
Inside it sit two letters that don’t exist in English.
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