Naomi Huan

Naomi Huan

  MY MAMA TOOK ME TO GO SHOPPING   My mama took me to go shopping because she had just got promoted from one cubical to...
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Robin Wyatt Dunn

Robin Wyatt Dunn

I allow myself one grain of heroin a week. The money I am saving. I could move to Florida. Madagascar. I could kill a priest.

F. Daniel Rzicznek

F. Daniel Rzicznek

He chooses so late // and I fail to swerve—

Tania Hershman

Tania Hershman

I want to be the only / surgeon in the world / who knows how / to cut you open, stitch / you up.

Photo: Fotowerk Aichner

Ales Steger

The chauffeur takes off his blindfold and leaves him in front of an unfamiliar villa by a lake. The door opens to a dim living room. Crackling embers in the fireplace. Some twenty masked people, cloaked in black habits.

Stephen Burt

Stephen Burt’s The Poem Is You | Friday Pick

Burt’s new book is an intriguing hybrid – anthology, introduction, and critical study all at once.

Deborah Allbritain

Deborah Allbritain

Sometimes I dream of that boy on his deathbed, calling for water, // a cold cloth, just before he dies, the atoms of him beginning to collapse

Diaz

Joanne Diaz

When I look up, I see the prophecy of Venus / sprawled across the stars: I will tell you, and you will wonder / at the way old crimes lead to monstrosities.

Derek Walcott

In Memoriam: Derek Walcott

At a dinner following a reading with Joseph Brodsky, the Russian poet was monosyllabic in the company of college faculty he didn’t know. Derek noticed and stood up from his chair. He swept arms around the table, leaned toward Brodsky and said, “Joseph, these are my friends. Be nice.”

Elizabeth Knapp

Elizabeth Knapp

Tonight the cicadas are deafening. / Nothing to do but lean into despair / the way one leans into a mirror.

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