Refine your results
Clear Search Results
Lubna Safi
Blue is the blue of distance, "the ink that I use is the blue blood of the swan" (Cocteau), of the sea, of the faraway, a discriminating blue, of your eyes, of memory...
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 8, 2023
J. Hope Stein
drop,
I tell time by counting teeth-marks around the crooked
nipple.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 7, 2023
"Rainbow" performs a demonstration of Soffici's manifesto for renewal, both urging the artist to wake up, revive, and take their place at the center of things, like a wizard or an alchemist, and doing so himself with the poem. Poets, like painters, he shows us, would need new techniques to respond to this radically new century. But rather than the aggressive techniques the Futurists advocated—the violent imagery and bombastic declarations designed to wrench Italy into the new century by force—Soffici chose color and expressive typography to reproduce the vibrancy, disorientation, and sensory overload of early twentieth-century life.
Result Type
- What Sparks Poetry
Feature Date
- February 6, 2023
Ardengo Soffici (translated from the Italian by Olivia E. Sears)
The day sinks into the scarlet basin of summer
And there are no more words
For that bridge of fire and jewels
Youth you’ll pass like the end of every play
Tant pis Never mind I’ll make myself a magnificent suit out of old posters
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 6, 2023
Laura Cresté
I tend my own but cheat, buy them full-grown from the nursery,
leaves round as saucers, in the way of daughters
fearing their mothers like them less each year we grow older.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 5, 2023
Laura Minor
Everyone wants someone to crawl back to;
everyone wants to forgive the rose for dying.
You used to make everyone jealous of my laughter,
turned every moment vignette, borderless and fading.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 4, 2023
Alyse Knorr
Today they color the arteries red and the veins blue,
dreaming of their scrubs and their stethoscopes,
strangers to Keats and the plague they'll soon grapple.
Today the answer is not: Someone once kissed this spot, so tender
behind the knee, but, Gracilis, plantaris, extensor hallucis longus.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 3, 2023
Lisa Robertson
The day I cried for Baudelai re I had been drinking a little
the discovery that th ere is no orthodoxy —
it took place in wh ich hotel room?
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 2, 2023
Therese Estacion
My body moves in prone mode exposing some
truth stored in our limbic systems Perhaps
I am a heroine in the iron mud
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- February 1, 2023
Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach
slow bone in front
of the other, unsure
which one of you
is going where or how
to name your joined,
persistent motion.
Result Type
- Poem
Feature Date
- January 31, 2023