Popshot Magazine

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Joy

May 5, 2022

Remember to think on joy, my love.Remember to think on joy. May it be a steamy, hot bath.Or the incredibly long neck of a giraffe. Crunching a leaf.A crooning song-weep. Sandy shifted, foot-tread whispers.Or the ochre-dusty finger paint, that lingers

The American Poetry Review

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Three Poems

Sep 1, 2019

before I was one I heard every soundas a sound that had never been heard,before I was one I saw every lightas a light separate from dark, colorhidden in a place I had not been.Before I was one I used feet to wakenin water, to pedal through air,hands

The American Poetry Review

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TEN POEMS Translations of Rafael Alberti

May 1, 2024

Throughout the centuries,through the nothingness of the world,I, without sleep, search for you. Behind me, imperceptible,without touching my shoulders,my dead angel keeps watch. Where is Paradise,Shadow, you who have been there?I ask silently. Cities

The American Poetry Review

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In the Designed Landscape (Garden of Planes)

Jan 1, 2025

O you rakers of sand, come. I bow, slightly, to the stone ear. It is once againthe season of resemblances. Forfeit, my life, your life, lives livedin the company of doors. Come in, come in, the sound is moist with morning dew.It will perform to your

The American Poetry Review

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from 36 WAYS OF WRITING A VIETNAMESE POEM

Feb 28, 2023

You can’t go far wrong with violence.You’ll go far, my boy.You’ll cross oceans, my boy. Start with the Fall, go back or forth,Through bombs or boats,Across all the killing fields of thought. You can’t make it upBecause it’s all yours—by blood.By righ

New Internationalist

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Home

Feb 25, 2019

I once lived in a yellow little house. Each morning, birds convened and sang at my bedroom window. The gate was indigo and inside the garden all kinds of flowers rose to kiss the sunny walls. The yellow nest was filled with cherished books, colourful

The Paris Review

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Two Poems by Mary Szybist

Sep 15, 2019

Like an alarm I can’t shut off, the summer.Like air raid sirens stuck onthe world is burning, the world is burning& I can’t stop it. Can’t stop ash from the reddening sky falling dry onto grass, onto cloverlit purple at their tips. Mouth level.My che

The American Scholar

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Five Poems

Mar 4, 2019

for William Gifford, 1928–2015 The river. Always the same, never the same.Poughkeepsie. A place north of where I am.To remember you is to remember Poughkeepsie.To remember Poughkeepsie is to remember the river.I am downriver now & you are a memoryI

The American Poetry Review

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from BLACK PASTORAL

Nov 1, 2023

somewheres, some lifetimes ago I have run so far, so long.There is nowhere I haven’t beenBut here, in this field, a bodyLength from the ragged brinkThat gives way to forest.I collapsed here, the thin, hard slipOf me whittled at both ends.I want badly

The American Poetry Review

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Four Poems

Jan 1, 2022

followed—in front, as horses—into daisy& silver dancing, knowing the jaw who unkeysin the danced earth to drink me down to haints,& will go again. was willed. distrusted happiness, addicted to it.a god needs of a god. here, i don’t want to reachfor g

The American Poetry Review

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Three Poems

May 1, 2024

Did you wait for mein the riverbed, undera smooth stone?Did I have to earn you,like a Chicago summer?A seed sproutingin harsh conditions?Stand in a long linefull of crossed fingers,all the whileyou lit up the marquee.Can I keep you?When they callyou,

Harper's Bazaar India

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Summer: A Love Story

Apr 20, 2021

It is a squalid time. The body grows tired of being a body. Sweat. Always. A thin film of it on the skin. Do not say dewy. Do not say glisten. I dream of endless green. Of wet. Of rain hammering the Earth. Of buds sprouting. I want to insist on life

The American Poetry Review

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AUSTRALOPITHECA1 & STARMAN2

Sep 1, 2019

The countdown to you begyns with me, deere Starman, when I wander, dumbly, deep into a space hospittable to Hunger. Now, all’s desert. No milk in syte. Just pitifull sand, what shushes as it slydes through your hande to rejoin itself. I’d join myself

The American Poetry Review

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Two Poems

Jan 1, 2022

What I love about the woodsis that you can screamand no one will come. Some dayssound’s the only way pain can fleethe body. I wish I was grownof wildflowers, but I’m all thorn. Years ago,my father came home alone from a bike ride,his face a broken wi

Writing Magazine

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In The Spotlight: your Writing

Sep 5, 2024

The love shone through in the many submissions we received in this month’s postbox. We’d invited you to send writing rooted in something that really mattered to you, and with submissions on topics including video games, tea, beach-combing, Shakespear

The American Poetry Review

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Two Poems

Jul 1, 2022

-ina: This suffix is used as an independent name,but doesn’t your little one deserve more?—a baby name origins website as in, I spent my playground days gasping endless into a machineas in, my elders blessed me with a second name, to ward off spirits

The American Poetry Review

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Three Poems

Nov 1, 2021

That the semi-circular canal is part of my ear,not a style of Venetian waterway arch,I learned mid-air on a Huffy.That bicycles left long out in the rain split.That prepositions are tricky.That I was made part industrious,part lazy-assed. That descri

The American Poetry Review

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Five Poems

Jan 1, 2020

How slow is all of this dying? Across the county linea fossil in the making, off-road exhaling last lightin nightmud. A small cat in a steel trap. Pendulous sparrows preen. Holding on for the last bluedark nightwe ate fruited scabs off each other’s m