Poetry

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No. 209 Summer 2014

Les Murray, A Denizen

The octopus is dead
who lived in Wylies Baths

Jane Hirshfield, A Cottony Fate

Long ago, someone
told me: avoid or.

Henri Cole, Three Poems

Eating a sugar sandwich, I sit at the kitchen table
admiring the geraniums outside the window,

Thomas Sayers Ellis, Polo Goes to the Moon

  There’s been
 a lot of talk,

Adam Kirsch, My Wife in Joy and Sorrow, 1911

Bewildered now to be so unalike,
Who were for one another from the start

Rowan Ricardo Phillips, Two Poems

Not knowing the difference between Heaven
And Paradise, he called them both Heaven.

Ange Mlinko, Two Poems

Birds don’t care that the land is ugly,
decorated with handsome cattle

Nick Laird, Watermelon Seed

If you extract the compact planet,
roughly sketched with jungle, wetlands,

Charles Simic, Four Poems

You’ve been paying visits
To that hunchbacked tailor

No. 208 Spring 2014

Nick Laird, XY

When he slide it in the slot and press
the buttons in their order, wait,

Carol Muske-Dukes, No Hands

No. 207 Winter 2013

Monica Youn, Two Poems

To spectate
is a verb

Charlie Smith, Bus to Tuxtla

Sometimes you wait a while for the bus—
the bus of happiness

Sylvie Baumgartel, Two Poems

The windows around Gramercy have eyes.
We look, they look back.

Emily Moore, Ghazal

She was older, sleek, and had a bite to her,
but I was bolder with my knees on either side of her.

Linda Pastan, Last Rites

She’s given up sex.
She’s given up travel.

Hilda Hilst, From “Alcohologues”

The coat of Italian red eyes me. Wool
Unraveling from abuse,

Susan Stewart, Pine Full Text

a homely word:
a plosive, a long cry, a quiet stop, a silent letter

Kevin Prufer, How He Loved Them Full Text

How much the colonel loved his granddaughters
you will never know.

No. 206 Fall 2013

Dan Chiasson, Bicentennial

Moving as a mind moves across a math problem,
Or an eye across a lover’s body,

Craig Morgan Teicher, Why Poetry: A Partial Autobiography

As if in answer to a primordial urge,
I longed for something

Maureen N. McLane, As I Was Saying, the Sun

& the moon and all stars
you can name
are fantastic!

Durs Grünbein, Peacocks on Broadway

Everything’s a couple sizes bigger: a sky
Cutting deep into the streets, hydrants

 

Jana Prikryl, “A Place as Good as Any”

Outside the funeral of the politician who died young
I waited for you. Rolled in my hand like a baton

Charles Simic, Four Poems

It pains me to see an old woman fret over
A few small coins outside a grocery store—

Luigia Sorrentino, Two Poems

we had climbed up the mountain
towards the colossal figure of the temple

Rowan Ricardo Phillips, The Mind After Everything Has Happened

Perpetual peace. Perpetual light.
From a distance it all seems graffiti.

Frederick Seidel, Two Poems

You’re born that way—or else you’re not.
It’s snowing—or else it’s hot.

No. 205 Summer 2013

Henk Rossouw, The Dream of the Road

Charles Harper Webb, Respect

Rachel Hadas, The Veil and the Baby

Donna Stonecipher, From “Model City”

Karl Kirchwey, A Hundred Years from Now

Gretchen Marquette, Ode to a Man in Dress Clothes

Geoffrey Brock, Dental Hygiene Through the Ages

D. Nurkse, Secret of the Lit Window

No. 204 Spring 2013

Melcion Mateu, Abyss

Ange Mlinko, Wingandecoia

Tony Hoagland, White Writer

John Freeman, Beirut

Stephen Dunn, Feathers

Peter Cole, From “The Invention of Influence”

Frederick Seidel, Pussy Days

No. 203 Winter 2012

Steven Cramer, Lackawanna

Yasiin Bey, One Called Trill

Geoffrey Hill, Three Poems

Regan Good, The Wasps’ House

Mortared by macerated wood-pulp effluvium,
                                 a paper palace hangs.

Linda Pastan, Ah, Friend

Ben Lerner, No Art

Devin Johnston, Means of Escape

No. 202 Fall 2012

August Kleinzahler, The Rapture of Vachel Lindsay

Jason Zuzga, Liquid Courage

George Seferis, Helen

No. 201 Summer 2012

Raúl Zurita, The Pacific Is the Sky

      So torrents of the Seventh,
    Fifth and Ninth. Riverbeds of
   Bach, Beethoven and Amadeus
rapids of the sky, peaks and pastures

David Ferry, That Now Are Wild and Do Not Remember

Where did you go to, when you went away?

It is as if you step by step were going
Someplace elsewhere into some other range
Of speaking, that I had no gift for speaking,
Knowing nothing of the language of that place

Lucie Brock-Broido, Posthumous Seduction

The orchard grew excellent,

Good mass of apples assembling, one angel burned, looped
On the wire fence, in a bowl of gold most satisfactory.

Octavio Paz, Target Practice

The tide covers, discovers, recovers, and always walks in the nude.
The tide weaves and unweaves, embraces and separates, is never the same and
      never another.

John Ashbery, Three Poems

Sophie Cabot Black, Online Again

No. 200 Spring 2012

Nicanor Parra, Defense of Violeta Parra

Sweet neighbor of the green forest
Eternal guest of April in bloom

Susan Barbour, Insomnia

I have been courting sleep
and catering to its taste in nightgowns.

Stephen Dunn, Sea Level

Down from the mountains of Appalachia
and the highs of new love

Yusef Komunyakaa, Two Poems

You huddle into a shield or breastplate,
a whisper in the dark summoning your kin

Adrienne Rich, Itinerary Full Text

Burnt by lightning nevertheless
she’ll walk this terra infinita

Rowan Ricardo Phillips, Heralds of Delicioso Coco Helado

The moods of the cantaloupe king are moods
Of the melon king in green variations.

Maureen N. McLane, Two Poems

a “beautiful day”
nothing happened

Frederick Seidel, Five Poems

The city sleeps with the lights on.
The insomniac wants it to be morning.

No. 199 Winter 2011

Gottfried Benn, Five Poems

The solitary molar of a streetwalker 
whose body had gone unclaimed 

Ange Mlinko, Two Poems

On leftovers ana breakfast   like the spleenish wulf the wéstenas chase. 
He sets out hungry,   nose in the wind, up the wulfhleoþu

Jonathan Galassi, Six Poems

I tried, and each attempt was a fiasco. 
I yearned, but every love of mine was wrong. 

David Wagoner, Two Poems

It means stand still. It means
stay just as sweet as you are

No. 198 Fall 2011

Meghan O’Rourke, Two Poems

Our ménage à trois by candlelight—;
the various absurdities: black lace,

Forrest Gander, Body Visible

Then he deflowers her, pulling away the greenery.
Then a blue vein thinning into a hollow.

Jeff Dolven, Two Poems

Catch! It’s a quarter, right? You got it? Good.
Now, pinch the flat between your first two fingers,

Paul Muldoon, Required Fields

Then we could ride all day and yet
not reach the farthest edge of our demesne,

Constantine P. Cavafy, In Despair

He’s gone from him forever,     and ever since he’s sought
his lips on the lips of every     boy he goes to bed with,

Brenda Shaughnessy, Two Poems

Feelings seem like made-up things,
though I know they’re not.

Sharon Olds, The Haircut

A year after he left I thought of the day he’d been
sick and I’d cut my then-husband’s hair

No. 197 Summer 2011

Frederick Seidel, Arabia Full Text

I move my body meat smell next to yours,
Your spice of Zanzibar. Mine rains, yours pours—

Lia Purpura, Two Poems

At your center:
spectacles to sharpen sight,

Kevin Prufer, Two Poems

In 1981
          in a hotel gift shop outside Phoenix, AZ,

No. 196 Spring 2011

Various Authors, Five Poems of Kabbalah

Bring me in under your wing, 
    be sister for me, and mother, 

Linda Gregerson, Slaters’ Measure

Beneath which the quarryman 
    crawls. Or rather 

Stephen Dunn, Leaving the Empty Room Full Text

The door had a double lock,
and the joke was on me.

Chris Andrews, Two Poems

Sounds that came into the world in my lifetime 
already sound old-fangled: dial-up modems, 

Clare Rossini, The Nitro Full Text

I wanted sky. That was my ambition. And now I’m being tugged 
Up a small steel mountain,

No. 195 Winter 2010

Dana Levin, In Honor of Xipe

Albert Goldbarth, Minnows, Darters, Sturgeon

Jim Moore, Blood in Our Headlights, Car Wrecked, the Boar Dead

Brian Blanchfield, Smalltown Lift Full Text

One last stop, he says. And they drive to Westside Lanes.
I grew up bowling. I don’t want to bowl. It was raining.

Damion Searls, 808 A.D. Full Text

Not too old, not young anymore,
almost three dozen years gone by.

Maureen N. McLane, Three Poems

That man over there
looking sidelong

Devin Johnston, Two Poems

I made this up from nothing.
It’s not myself I sing,

No. 194 Fall 2010

Daniel Bosch, Solutions to Autumn

Dorothea Lasky, It's a Lonely World

John Tranter, Four Poems After Baudelaire

In the good old days mutations appeared everywhere,
and every second baby was a monster. 

Giacomo Leopardi, Two Poems

Young girl's song, insistent song
wafting from a hidden room and wandering

Frederick Seidel, Five Poems

The second woman shines my shoes.
The other takes my order, curtsies. Thank you, sir.

Carol Muske-Dukes, Condolence Note: Los Angeles

No. 193 Summer 2010

Deborah Pease, Self-Portrait in Iceland Full Text

The face is featureless,
As though bound in tight gauze,

Deborah Pease, Sheep in Landscape

Peg Boyers, At the Guggenheim Museum, Venice

James Longenbach, Knowledge

Ron De Maris, Old Cadillac

Julia Story, Four Poems

Cynthia Zarin, Ada Poems

Jorie Graham, Three Poems

Matthew Zapruder, Come On All You Ghosts

I heard a little cough 
in the room, and turned 

No. 192 Spring 2010

Chloe Honum, Fever

J. Allyn Rosser, Sore Ga, Doshita

Deborah Landau, Dear Someone Full Text

my emptiness has a lake in it   deep and watery 
with several temperaments      milk  cola  beer 

Sarah Cohen, The Invisible Hand

Linda Pastan, Eve on Her Deathbed Full Text

In the end we are no more than our own stories: 
mine a few brief passages in the Book, 

Alexander Nemser, The Encyclopedia of the Dead

Charles Simic, Six Poems

That was the year the Nazis marched into Vienna, 
Superman made his debut in Action Comics, 

Patrick Mackie, Five Poems