The Horns of Moses

Nicholas Friedman  

Browsing a library copy of What to Expect,
I imagine St. Jerome, making by candlelight
the infamous error.

Tiny Asthmatic Ghost

Adam Scheffler  

               in death I want to be cremated
burn up with desire and whoosh
with the wind, backspraying
onto a friend’s face or coat,

Arendt: An Arguable Elegy

Richard Howard  

From the Review, June, 2008.

The Poetry of Louise Glück

Louise Glück  

We celebrate the 2020 winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, with a look back at four decades of her work in the Review​.


Louise Glück  

From the Review, April, 2008.


Louise Glück  

From the Review, April, 2008.

Burning Leaves

Louise Glück  

From the Review, April, 2008.

Walking at Night

Louise Glück  

From the Review, April, 2008.


Louise Glück  

From the Review, October, 2011.

The Burning Heart

Louise Glück  

From the Review, January, 1999.

Mock Orange

Louise Glück  

From the Review, July, 1981.


Louise Glück  

From the Review, January–April, 1992.

September Twilight

Louise Glück  

From the Review, January–April, 1992.


Louise Glück  

From the Review, January–April, 1992.


Armen Davoudian  

His face tanned almost to the faded tone
of the adobe alcove, father’s father
sits in his handsome sixties


Jake Crist  

Encounter plus a posture of consent: 
A messiah might hide in a second spent


Alexandria Hall  

                                               I wish I cared more
about the birds, but I am interested in omens,

An Account

Tomas Unger  

Looking back, it seems
the mind knows as little as the body
what it acts out


Hannah Hirsh  

I visited Rome once. I was fifteen, just a slip of a girl, or less than a slip,
               I was maybe a sip of a watered-down drink, in a tulip skirt and flip flops

The Twenty-First Century

Jacob Eigen  

We would sit at the counter saying I love so-and-so
but live with so-and-so-someone-else

Boethius' Body

Jacob Eigen  

“Take unity away from a thing
and existence too ceases,” that brain had once thought.


Jacob Eigen  

When he was a spider
exuding thread between rocks, 
he considered his earlier life as a man


The Southern Hemisphere

Jacob Eigen  

Therefore they take this time
to whisper nothings to each other.
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing,

Yesterday I Saw a Dog at the Tideline

Krystyna Dabrowska, translated by Mira Rosenthal  

Yesterday I saw a dog at the tideline,

a young, black dog, how he kept falling headlong into the water,

Rat Among the Pines

Roger Reeves  

With its hands in its pocket,
Moon hung calm above

Catastrophe, the police
Breaking the neck of a man

After Death

Roger Reeves  

Death now in a pocket of pines, in the thick
Hair of a boy who turns a skunk over
With a stick, watching the Christmas of its intestines


Mark Bibbins  

How old are you, 
sweet knot of toads, how old.

Here & There

Will Frazier  

When I looked at him, a voice in my head said

This is your dad, he is speaking, you are on earth, this is your life

Mushmouf's Maybe-Crown

Phillip B. Williams  

Maybe madness make my mouth mine?

Elevator Closed, Elevator Open

Matthea Harvey  

Now, as we file in for our first journey
together, even this choice of fourteen floors

floors me.