Thinking about something does not make ithappen. I was thinking about calling you, but I didn’t; I was hoping that youwould call me, but the phone never rang. Once, I had the power to will things intobeing. I would dream about you, and you would appear from thousands of miles away;we answered each other before… Continue reading Joyce Sutphen
From nerves veins valves ventriclesfrom tendons cartilage nerves ductsfrom follicles nerves ribs clavicles …from every pore my soul erupts. — Patrizia Valduga, from “One Hundred Quatrains,” trans. Geoffrey Brock, Poetry (December 2007)
I am the soul stretching intothe furthest reaches of my fingersand beyond — Philip Levine, from “Last Words,” The New Yorker, Poems: December 13, 1982 Issue.
Do you think the dictionary ever says to itselfI’ve got these words that mean completelydifferent things inside myselfand it’s tearing me apart? — Dean Young, from “Selected Recent and New Errors,” Poetry (July/August 2008)
Oh, how manytimes did I take my dumb life in my hands and shove itdown deep between my thighs so no one wouldsee it. — Carrie Fountain, from “Hottest Summer on Record,” Better, Issue 4.
And today is a thread I’ve had in my mouth for too long.Its color has dissolved on my tongue. It no longer remembers the fabric it came from,it no longer wants to remember at all. — Alex Dimitrov, closing lines to “Like a Letter, I’m Never Coming Back,” The Paris-American (August 24-30, 2012)
The dust in my lungs, Knock it out of me. — Marty McConnell, from “elegy,” Court Green. Court Green was an online poetry journal published annually in association with the Department of Creative Writing at Columbia College Chicago. It was named after a property in North Tawton, Devon, England, which was the home of poets… Continue reading Marty McConnel
Writing down your thoughts is both necessary and harmful. It leads to eccentricity, narcissism, preserves what should be let go. On the other hand, these notes intensify the inner life, which, left unexpressed, slips through your fingers. If only I could find a better kind of journal, humbler, one that would preserve the same thoughts,… Continue reading Anna Kamieńska
O minutehand, teach me how to hold [her] the way thirst holds water. Let every river envy our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body like a season. Where apples thunder the earth with red hooves. — Ocean Vuong, from “A Little Closer to the Edge,” Poetry ( April 2016)
Late Aubade after Hardy So what do you think, Life, it seemed pretty good to me, though quiet, I guess, and unspectacular. It’s been so long, I don’t know any more how these things go. I don’t know what it means that we’ve had this time together. I get that the coffee, the sunlight on… Continue reading James Richardson