Lucien Darjeun Meadows
And fell, wrist-deep, into the body of a deer, Just a fawn, really, with no eyes. His mouth was open, His tongue black, swollen, vibrating with flies.
from the book In the Hands of the River / Hub City Press

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.

Jeevika Verma on Reginald Dwayne Betts' <em>Felon</em>
Photo: Jeevika Verma
Pere Gimferrer (translated from the Spanish by Adrian Nathan West)
The sea has its mechanics as love has its symbols. With what racket the red curtain rises or in this proscenium above an empty stage a rumor of statues resounds, iris fronds, cutlasses, doves that descend and softly alight.
Reginald Dwayne Betts
someone wailed & the boy’s mother yells: This ain’t justice. You can’t throw my son into that fucking ocean. She meant jail. & we was powerless to stop it. & too damn tired to be beautiful.

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