Poetry Magazine
FROM THE CURRENT ISSUE OF
Poetry Magazine
Lived out
Lived out
blacker and more beautiful than
I
blacker and more beautiful than
I
Recent Features from Poetry
Prose from Poetry Magazine
By Megan PillowAffrilachian evolution and postcolonial community in the poetry of Frank X Walker.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
By Kelly Norman EllisOn Frank X Walker and the power of Affrilachian gatherings.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
By Jacques J. RancourtAn intimate and compassionate voice from a lost paradise.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
When, long after puberty had done its work, I was finally able to re-admit my original understanding of myself to myself, I saw my self-loathing in a new light.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
I’ve heard it said that if poets are not writing about death, they’re not writing about anything; the same could be said for love.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
My writing was not more important to me than my wish to have a family. And this is the well from which much of my shame flowed.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
What other kind of writer puts so much stock in the quasi-religious notion of a calling or a vocation?
Prose from Poetry Magazine
If you can describe it, you must not be knowing it.
From the Poetry Magazine Archive
- PoemBy Rita DoveMirror,
take this
from
me:
my blasted gaze,
sunken
astonishment. Resolve
memory & rebuild; shame’ll
dissolve
under powder pressed into
my skin.
Oh, avalanche, my harbor:
can I
look
over you;
pit & pustule, crease & blotch
without seeing
you through you—
if all I am
(Am I all?)
is Woe is
me?
Mirror,
this take
from
me:
gaze blasted, my
sunken
resolve, astonishment.
Shame’ll rebuild & memory
dissolve
into... - PoemBy Alice Fultonit befalls us. an exchanged glance, reflective spasm.
Is it a fantastically unlaminated question set in flesh
or valentine that wears the air as its apparel?
If you cut a heart from parchment, is it still
a heart? A nontrivial knot, where turns of... - PoemBy Jessica AbughattasNeighbors
pass, two lines of smoke
in hooded sweatshirts,
from the sober living house
next door, as I stand in the front yard
watering dirt.
I ask little of the garden—
mere inspiration—working
my shovel into bare earth.
While witnesses in neckties
carry scriptures, county sheriff
circles the block.
A couple fights
in...
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History
Poetry was founded in Chicago by Harriet Monroe in 1912.
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