Translated from Spanish by Heather Cleary Not being devoured is the most perfect of feelings. Not being devoured is the secret goal of an entire life. —Clarice Lispector, “The Smallest Woman in the World” (tr. Katrina Dodson) She scratches … Continued
translated from Dutch by Donna Spruijt-Metz in memoriam Joost Zwagerman Woken up in a hut on the Bay of Baratti under a blood moon Barking dogs on hilltops ripped silence to pieces held the dead … Continued
translated from Dutch by Donna Spruijt-Metz in memoriam Derk Wiersum Having had to absorb a lot of life lately I learned through so much pain that being dead doesn’t seem so bad It is up … Continued
At 3:02 in the afternoon of a summer Wednesday, a man in soiled red hiking boots approaches the summit of Mount Katahdin having traveled the entirety of the Appalachian Trail by foot. At the moment he reaches the … Continued
11. One sneeze can kill you Church bells ring seven futures Blackbirds flex sunlight 100. Blunt-rolling squirrels A crow rocks an evergreen The cupola smiles 23. A dog on Front Street … Continued
for Diane Gilliam …there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes … Continued
When I was a child I was pixie dust. That’s only part of the story. The other parts are the boys from New England. How they put their mouths to my neck, a river on the moon. I … Continued
Thereupon R. Joshua, son of Karhah, sent word to him, “Vinegar, son of wine!* How long will you deliver up the people of our God for slaughter!” Back came the reply: “I weed out thorns from the vineyard.” … Continued
Translated from Swedish by Patty Crane I In the evening darkness at a place outside New York, an overlook where in a single glance you can take in the homes of eight million people. The giant city over … Continued
Translated from Hungarian by Timea Sipos Climb up onto my chariot, sweetheart. I’ll take you free of charge. The sharks planes are flying lower than ever. We have to hurry. My body is stubborn under metal. I burst forth. My … Continued
Translated from Hungarian by Timea Sipos This tunnel is underwater. It doesn’t matter whose it is. You’ve never seen anything like it: I hold the spheres of my life below sea level like a virtuoso. An inherited or learned reflex? … Continued
Complete focus can resemble utter distraction, just like there’s a point where my lover begins to look like a stranger and large things begin to look small. When the squirrel twitching in the dirt becomes, upon closer … Continued
The painter wants to say she was the speechless grass obscuring the doe’s tangle of ankles, but she was not grass. She’d forced certain realities into being; for instance, the fawn. She’d refused to paint it as … Continued
When practicing Crow, the elbows must be carefully bent at ninety degrees to support one’s body weight. It is a tricky yoga pose. Like most other poses, it looks easier than it really is. When I squeeze my … Continued
On the bottom floor of the modern Bibliothèque nationale de France, stack #368, row K, reference #p33189787272, page 368, the first comma of paragraph three is feeling a little lonely today. No one has glanced at it for … Continued
Splayed before the white plastic table two hearts an orifice several ears a hue & a small cloud all a mess and amiss like a lava lamp. Through the eye of a golden needle she sees the sun … Continued
The screw of a tug stirs the night, thrums the chest like a heart in blood. Does it fight? Yes. Its iron mass displaces fear if fear is a kind of tide. Inside its cabin, a … Continued
after T.S. Eliot I The fog horn wakes me up in February. The night leaves snow on the docks but morning grays it, sends rivers running down the bare cooper beech. Rose Island is shrouded by fog. … Continued
But what does this phrase mean to you: “People in glass houses should not throw stones”? Does it mean you might break things, these things or others, not yet named, nor dreamed of? Or that the wasps outside … Continued
I promised myself I wouldn’t say what I expected to say, nor even something else: but what else? And while we fill in a few hours ’til sunset, we might ask: why do we write poems? Hysterics? Wonderment? … Continued
Yet all that summer it was boys against girls when the giant girls and boys were fighting, where past was prologue, and all bore down on one another in the radiance of flooded land where the mezzo-soprano sang … Continued
My sister has drowned thirty-seven times. You might think that’s impossible, but believe me, it’s not. It’s the truth. My sister has drowned in rivers, in bathtubs, and in soup bowls. She’s drowned in swimming pools and drinking glasses. … Continued
for Melvin I’m sitting on the floor watching Jackie Robinson die or watching his funeral, or he’s stealing home and he’s dying into home and I’m trying to look back. There are people in dashikis and afros. Everyone … Continued
translated from Portuguese by Alexis Levitin The North Sea, green and grey, surrounded the island of Vig, and spume swept its dark rocks. On this early afternoon, there was a constant coming and going of marine birds, … Continued
TRANSLATED BY ROBIN MYERS (Rochester, NY: Open Letter Books, 2020) “My pen is also a gun that wants to blow up the monovocal, monotonous realities imposed on us by capitalism. I don’t think it’s worth living a life like that; … Continued
(North Adams, MA: Tupelo Press, 2021) I was first introduced to the brilliance of Robert Wrigley’s work through his poem “Ode to My Boots,” from Anatomy of Melancholy and Other Poems. In this poem, Wrigley’s narrator draws on a long … Continued
(New York: Persea Books, 2020) By middle-age, youth is a private letter tucked inside an envelope. No matter what emotions it stirs by looking back over it, the very fact of its presence makes one thing clear: We each … Continued
(North Adams, MA: Tupelo Press, 2021) In her stunning debut collection, Music for Exile, Nehassaiu deGannes acts as a symphonic or choral conductor, deftly incorporating a multitude of voices, themes, and structures from Kamau Brathwaite, Jay Wright, Gwendolyn Brooks, the … Continued
Books discussed in this review: The Language of My Captor (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2017) Sometimes I Never Suffered (New York: FSG, 2020) The Gilded Auction Block (New York: FSG, 2019) As a first-generation white American, I have … Continued
(Wyncote, PA: Split/Lip Press, 2021) A glance down the table of contents of The Part That Burns: A Memoir in Fragments, by Jeannine Ouellette, immediately shows the reader how Ouellette has chosen to organize her work. Here we see … Continued