Tag: American poetry
Doing Wicked ThingsNovember 2013
The 2013 National Book Award Finalist on magical thinking, never breaking a vow, and why she wants her poems “to have long legs.”
Ick WormsNovember 2012
Wet pets lounge out in the trees, all the abandoned bits / children leave, beyond what the self wants (to be bigger, / less attached).
The Destruction of Tenochtitlan; or, What I Did on My Summer VacationNovember 2012
I would make, / it occurs to me one / sun-smeared evening after too much vodka, not / a bad Aztec.
Risk Management Memo: Continuing EducationNovember 2012
Tonight’s theme is: you are a baby nihilist.
Portrait of a TyrantOctober 2012
I’ve seen him before, crawling / under church pews, tying // parishioners’ shoes together.
Watching the Dive Team Practice after Covering a Friend’s ClassApril 2012
I wanted to know them, woman and man / the spice of chlorine and adrenaline / to be with them at the edge.
300 CubitsApril 2012
Two of everything, it’s written somewhere, meaning a breeding pair.
Many Small ChildrenMarch 2012
They disappear for months. Longer.
Fu Han at the Nuts Café, Chongqing, China, April 9, 2011February 2012
Whatever song they’re singing / It’s not Tiananmen
We have come to Haifa where the sea starts. / The theater Al Midani floats by a tree.
How I Wanted You to Find Me and What You Have in Common with GodFebruary 2012
When I got home God was already in the living room with his knitting / needles. I asked him if he wanted some of my Cherry Seven-Up
The Last BestiaryJanuary 2012
When all animals have died / even the ones in books
Sarah at the Martini BarJanuary 2012 She wants her red dress to also be her white dress.
They Said You Were to Be a ConquistadorDecember 2011 Dear Sarah, I’m writing to admit to you I’ve never made much of a Viking.
Of LargenessDecember 2011
O America we never wanted / your size but here / it is and we can’t contain ourselves
ClioNovember 2011 When baby came from up top she twistered / her fingers round the wrought iron
our weakness no strangerNovember 2011
There’s a special name for / all of us are having the same dream.
What the heart wants? The heart wants / her horses back.
In the beginning, every- / thing was middle, and lovely to behold // (if you like that sort of thing)
Hello Corpse How Pale You AreSeptember 2011
Now I remember The broken rib / Your tight hold on that wisdom tooth / The sound your kneecap made on rock
Son-in-LawSeptember 2011 “Oh, don’t he miss those kids,” but that’s the truth. / Why else would he have locked them in that room, / and waved that gun, and howled?
A Stranger Comes to TownAugust 2011 Where are all the girls in this story? Don’t they / set out on journeys? Don’t they bang around in the surf?
[All morning I feed the petals]August 2011 the way a child just born / already knows to kiss head down
God keeps unfurling me / with God’s gigantic helium.
Trace a LineJuly 2011
Once I was home, Dad told me: You have the blood / of 100,000 innocent Iraqis on your hands.
The PondJuly 2011 our place to hide / is someone else’s place / to go finding
The Devil’s FaceJuly 2011 The girl has been learning how to shit on the devil’s face. It is a slow process.
group photo of dissectionJune 2011
this could be a comfort amid machines / a cure for feeling remanded
Crimea, An Unexpected FreezeJune 2011
The straw-boned seabirds are blown / from their trawlers, their religion of fish.
Poem with Several Unforgivable Keatsian References, Poem Burning Up in the Fire I Lit to Warm My Son, or Do as I Say Not as I DoMay 2011
Hello, darkling, / where’ve you been all my life?
Terror of the Back Eighty AcresMay 2011
He grew tame // and hunted the dreams of farm kids—every tree scratch / on the window were his nails, every pregnant farm girl // was knocked up with the devil's seed and spiderbabies.
The Worst BuddhistApril 2011
The dog wakes, rushes toward the wood. / Then it realizes which world it’s in / & lies down again.
MolecularityApril 2011 bones mellowing from red to yellow, / and wanting to crack / each other open, suck each other / dry.
Deadbeat on the Farm with CowApril 2011
She taught Deadbeat // perineum, wanted a word in exchange. He offered her / duende, which she had.
I'm younger than anyone here, and I have read // Books about bees, but I've only been stung twice.
Marriage: Flesh Of My Flesh, Bone Of My BoneMarch 2011 And dice (singular, die) can come to rest // in six different attitudes, like a woman, / it means something played, something given.
My house became a stable / when my wife gave birth to a horse.
Distant Incident on Paper with Square HolesFebruary 2011
Improvisation, if you’re eviscerated, is quasi-strange.
June’s winter, ivory-rinsed blue, // a wild dog tugs a sock of skin /
down an impala’s stick-leg penciling skyward
Snake StoryDecember 2010
my father has always had / a fear of being swallowed / whether by a large reptile or the earth
Tom O’BedlamDecember 2010
Put your foot / in that water, and you’ll lose a toe, / or worse, a whole foot.
I want to tell you, I have nothing / but respect for your ribcage
People Like Us Are DangerousNovember 2010
I wanted to be a pugilist with clever hands.
Deepening into HumannessNovember 2010
Guest Editor Emily Fragos introduces six poets who write about family incarnations—Matthew Zapruder, Cynthia Cruz, Gabriel Fried, Mark Wunderlich, Lynn Melnick, and Jennifer Franklin.
MolotovBy Cynthia Cruz, guest-edited by Emily Fragos
Got my enzymes, a nickel bag of / Electrolytes. My entire life, / I’ve been waiting for this.
It Is TuesdayBy Matthew Zapruder, guest-edited by Emily Fragos
if you hate me / it must be / for ancient reasons
The ButcherBy Gabriel Fried, guest-edited by Emily Fragos
He’s not old, but he is / too old to live with his sisters / for no reason.
Gebet eines Ehemannes (A Husband’s Prayer)By Mark Wunderlich, guest-edited by Emily Fragos
When thistles spring up in the field / of our marriage, when the noxious vine // twines onto the maple, let us pull it up / by its roots.
Poem for a DaughterBy Lynn Melnick, guest-edited by Emily Fragos
We aren’t native to this land. / It’s time to plant what is. It’s time to go home.
I would like my love to dieBy Jennifer Franklin, guest-edited by Emily Fragos
Thin arm around my neck. It doesn’t look / Strong enough to hold a small animal; but it is.
Convince Me EternityOctober 2010
There is not one dignified thing about this life or that one.
The Smiths, as I understand themOctober 2010
There’s a box at the hospital in which to deposit / children unlikely to win the Nobel Prize.
Big MoneySeptember 2010
We played Steal the Bacon / and explored our unmentionables /
behind the gazebo
Fairytale SmalltalkSeptember 2010
He says: look yourself up in the guide and tell me what you are.
Then he remembered / That he couldn’t remember // If he had toes. What a relief.
Victoria KentBy Scott Hightower
A few of the prison reforms / you wrestled into implementation // in Madrid, will take root /
in the rest of the world
Oil and AshBy Michael Bazzett
I understand this economically, and I’d rather not / mention the resemblance to prostitution, but when I open my / mouth it also fills with something called sky
In AngangueoJune 2010
Little boys in drifts of dulling orange were trying / to pack balls of wings to throw at each other; / she thought perhaps she wouldn't have children.
Beautiful FuneralMay 2010
Tonight, you are thinking of heroin, / Of the boy who pulled you to his lips / In a blue room and whispered heroin / So close you could feel it on your face like a cloudburst.