By R. L. Swihart
Translated By Nora Brooks Blakely
The young man says, “Alan can
do anything he wants”
“Not fly,” I say
The young man returns
a puzzled look…
do anything he wants”
“Not fly,” I say
The young man returns
a puzzled look…
Explore Poems: Doubt & Contemplation
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- By Toi DerricotteWhen relatives came from out of town,
we would drive down to Blackbottom,
drive slowly down the congested… - By Ahmad Almallahthe wound is bleeding into white
the wound is threading clouds
across the eye, across its view
and how can it be
that I am
caught
... - By Lyn HejinianThe spoons have clattered
Aren’t children little pears and observant birds
I note that the green blanket is askew again briefly
I have flung my sweater over the banister again
The corn cockle is beautiful
For months I’ve owed someone I’ll call Amy Rossini a... - By Natalie ShaperoGod come on stop cutting me
out of your photos God stop dragging
the mouse around my shopworn
body like a chalk outline then clicking fill
with background God I know
that times are tight I know you only
made one death per person I’m sorry
to... - By J. Estanislao LopezThis century is younger than me.
It dresses itself
in an overlong coat of Enlightenment thinking
despite the disappearing winter.
It twirls the light-up fidget spinner
won from the carnival of oil economies.
In this century, chatbots write poems
where starlings wander from their murmuration
into the denim-thick... - By Michelle Peñalozaanak like a sigh born every day
ilong lead by scent and know-how
tanong asking questions about the world
sayaw like how dance that comes from joy
sayang can sway so close to sorrow
bayan how shame could be an entire country
pinto or an open-doored question
kailangan needing, needful, and needless
ilaw illuminating a path
ikaw to you,... - By Janet Loxley LewisWe have forgotten Paris, and his fate.
We have not much inquired
If Menelaus from the Trojan gate
Returning found the long desired
Immortal beauty by his hearth. Then late,
Late, long past the morning hour,
Could even she recapture from the dawn
The young delightful love?... - By Patricia Smith"I seen it lots of times, I seen it, just from being
on the street when something new was going down;
I seen kids get killed, a few, my buddy Jules
got bucked, this gang he was down with, I mean he
wasn't even... - By Nabila Lovelaceseen a dove / in passing / the white side
of a soapbox / my quandary over / dividing line
is / any city / of hierarchy / little eyes / decircuit
in 2-year-old / prescription lenses / wearing
fog’s remnants / I point... - By Julia EdwardsBehind me, a man retrieves waterfalls
of coins from a vending machine while
laundry owners fold cloth, hold a crying baby.
I’m across the street from a restaurant
we drove to in the haze of motion meant to
anticipate grief—gallons of water, a burnt
quesadilla. What... - By Lee Young-juTranslated By Jae KimAll that we are is the result of what we have thought, said the Buddha. Have I returned here because I’m drawn to misfortune? The crimson handprint has remained on the wall for over twenty years. At the end of...
- By Iliana RochaYou know wonder by its silence. Pinsky’s ineffable this evening. A field that isn’t quite ours, darkness, clusters of lightning bugs. Get your camera out. I can’t catch anything, too dark. This isn’t ours to take with us. A lesson...
- By Chen ChenSee the stars nightly
disobeying the night.
Watch the pattering rain
sketch an anarchist’s
map to the future, then
unpattern it away—
... - By Pat MoraSpinning through space for eons,
our earth—oceans, rivers, mountains,
glaciers, tigers, parrots, redwoods—
evolving wonders.
And our vast array, generations
of humans—all shapes, colors, languages.
Can I be the only me?
Our earth: so much beauty, hate,
... - By Len VerweyThey'll say you are wrong
to think of it as war
when what you saw was
only flailing, half illumined in the flares.
They'll point to problems with the light,
say you cannot trust
the conjuring habit of the hands and eyes
that appear to belie stories... - By Aigerim Tazhiwhen the memory is not the same and hands are not the same
when an animal wakes up in your belly
a light bulb goes dim in your head
a voice
born in the cavity
of one who might grow out of you
something was really... - By Countee CullenWherein are words sublime or noble? What
Invests one speech with haloed eminence,
Makes it the sesame for all doors shut,
Yet in its like sees but impertinence?
Is it the hue? Is it the cast of eye,
The curve of lip or Asiatic breath,
Which... - By Lewis MacAdamsEvery time I see something Beautiful
I fuck it up
And bring it to... - By Christopher MalecWe met at Burger King... so I thought I could have us my way
If I had known you were gonna drive through more than once,
I would’ve made the first...