Poetry Magazine : September : 2011

There’s something pleasingly off kilter in Mary Ruefle’s Women in Labor and Shalimar

A few lines from Kevin Young:

I begged the earth empty
of him. Death

believes in us whether
we believe

or not.

from Pieta

My favorites from Peter Gizzi’s Apocrypha:

3. To love the children, so full of neurons and consciousness. What a joy to clean up and put a shine on their mess.

5. I leave the voice, the wonder, the mirror, and my lens, bent and beholden to the worm, leaf-work in wrought iron, eerie illuminations and deep-sea vision.

11. To Time Roman I give my stammer, my sullennes, my new world violence, form and all that, forms, and all that paper gusts. Little buttress.

20. To the polestar I leave my alien regalia, my off-world headdress. I leave acoustic forms in time, blooming, sudsy, inconsolable.

28. To mercy I leave whatever.

“For you: anthophilous, lover of flowers” by Reginal Dwayne Betts is splendid.

Edwin Honig

Over the trading world I sang
songs of chalk and sand
songs of the diamond hand.
Down the thigh of day
up the arm of night
rubbing my chest of clay
pulling the moon-belt tight.
Over the fading world I sprang.


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