bronx

Anthony Madrid’s Limericks, Illustrated by Mark Fletcher

Anthony Madrid and Mark Fletcher   Limerick No. 4 (2013) Poem by Anthony Madrid. Illustration by Mark Fletcher Limerick No. 7 (2013)...
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Rob MacDonald

Rob MacDonald

First, you discovered nothing / and wanted to show it off / to your friends. // Pointing at nothing / proved problematic, though, / so you circled it.

hamidismailov

Hamid Ismailov

I am Moscow’s underground son, the result of one too many nights on the town. My mother Moscow (though everyone called her Mara, or Marusia) was born in some little Siberian town or other, maybe Abakan, maybe Tayshet and, with that town’s strange name in her passport, she picked me up in the year of the Moscow Olympics

simpson

Friday Pick: Air With Armed Men

Louis Simpson's memoir Air with Armed Men is a book of binaries. Between childhood and adulthood, traditional and modern poetries, the poet and the academy.

photo: Nick Rosza

Jane Hirshfield

The rain is string / for wrapping a package no one knows / the inside of, they just keep trying to mail it.

Richard Jackson

Richard Jackson’s Photo Poems (II)

The wall was always within us. We have to write it / until it opens.

Matthew Olzmann2

Friday Pick: Matthew Olzmann’s “Mezzanines”

Olzmann's big-hearted and often Yoda-like poems speak in a softly conversational tone, imparting intimacies, wisdom, and these are love letters to the world but a world he doesn't fully trust.

Nate Pritts

Re: Word: Nate Pritts

Such a beautiful orange trumpet! / Sometimes a keyhole is shaped like a cloud. // Those same words escaped me three times / because I wanted their sincerity // to sway people to have faith in me.

Daniel Sluman

Daniel Sluman

You reel her into your arms / like the most beautiful fish / promises burning through / the bones you suck / peppermint from her tongue / & pull her hard into the linen / of your jacket her lashes curl / & you clench tight can smell / the lake in her hair as her childhood / starts to wind itself up

Letters-wide-narrow

Letters to the Editors, December, 2013

I find it very difficult to put into words what this poem means to me. Suffice to say, I have printed it and blu-tacked it to the wall next to my bedroom mirror, and there it shall stay.

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