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Andrés Cerpa
Friends, family, gallows saints & ghosts, rig a swing at the edge of the shore
when I'm gone for the birds to perch & the bats to glide through,
to disappear & appear in the small places the moon cannot touch.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 21, 2019
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 20, 2019
Tomaž Šalamun (translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry)
Houses open their mouths, swallow
flowers. Lightning doesn't choose. I brushed
the spruces by hand. A car has a tire, a farmhand
a whip, trash cans are falling. We have
two natures.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 19, 2019
Emily Berry
Somebody said: 'I am a master of elision.' I veiled my tended wound. I veiled my narrative. Somebody called it: 'some kind of gratuitous beauty.' I veiled my photograph of her in sixties playsuit
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 18, 2019
Jenny George
It could have been any gate, any moment when things go
one way and not the other—an act of tenderness
or a small, cruel thing done with a pocketknife.
A child being born. Or the way we move
from sleeping to dreams, as a river flows uneasy under ice.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 17, 2019
One of the secrets of public life is that, despite the public record, people of color were indeed out and about. In public. They were at the parties, asking questions (“What is the occasion?”), watching, listening, immersed in spring and the quandary that is American freedom. Remarkably, “In Memoriam” exposes this secret.
Result Type
- What Sparks Poetry
Feature Date
- September 16, 2019
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 16, 2019
Bradley Trumpfheller
This time, I’ll be a girl & you can be anything
alive. Take the rope off your wrists.
Somewhere far away from here,
a star’s unspooling its star-white curtain.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 15, 2019
Nazelah Jamison
one person can make a difference
this is my new personal revolution
cause and effect, instant means to an end
warn all your friends
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 14, 2019
Sara Michas-Martin
I listen to
a hammock filled with wind
and where all of it goes
and in a cloaked way
there is a dark river that flows
through a town named Christmas
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- September 13, 2019
