Victoria Chang
Last month, my father fell again and I walked through him for the third time.
Paul Muldoon
In the Archaeological Museum there’s at least one artifactfor which the use is no longer known.
Laura Kasischke
The thing you never dared to fearwill never make its way in here.
What I want is thatlost shoebox full of faded snapshots back.
Vijay Seshadri
When I knew you, I had time for mine.
The sun itself a larger bird, its wings manufacturing the solar wind
Major Jackson
Tragically, he believes he can mend his wounds with his poetry.
Angela Gardner
Turbulent paradise, thirsting.
Stephanie Burt
People are different, too
Tess Taylor
Sometimes I can hear the buried stream.
The detaching icebergs crushed the bees who used to fly over conference rooms.
Dorothy Parker
From the Review, Autumn, 1930.
Adrienne Rich
From the Review, January, 1992.
Where lyric meets narrative
Why has a kind of prosaic poetry suddenly become so appealing?
Aria Aber
Hunger borders this land, while snow turns all to immigrants …
Lately I’ve been moved by how the skeletons were found …
Where did he go? I asked. Where do the missing ever go?
Kevin Young
For now, the sting of being—
like an ambulance playing the tune you cannot name…
Margaret Ross
People withoutanger are more developed.
There were too many doors; there weretwo right in the middle of a hallway. Some you couldn’t open without closing others facing them.
Thirty white people wearing white and posing by the sea. Actually, two of themwear blue…
Sandra Lim
The pigeons ran around in berserk patterns outside.Our warm, clandestine complicity had the force of a new actuality.
With me, life becomes sweeter, so she loses some ofthe ability to defend herself.
When we met later in the alley to take out the trash, we would reliably turn into two lumps of fear.
Sasha Debevec-McKenney
I hate Lyndon Johnson until I love Lyndon Johnson…
Gather the video girls. Tell them to twerk to this …
Daniel Poppick
I had been raised as a Reform Jew—in other words, an agnostic worshipper of narrative …
Sarah Trudgeon
My husband says he doesn’t really likeshort stories, says only novelscapture the human experience.
Anaïs Duplan
I missed my father. I ate wax in my impatience.
