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Seismodiptych: Skyline Aftermath

“A creak / A creaking / Your earth / Split and splayed” A crown of new poems from Ruth Ellen Kocher loops through outsets and aftermaths.

Selections from Rave

Gramercy, that you sang in clicks to say / That all the world is stirring / And alive.” Six new songs of praise from Marly Youmans gather brilliance from the likes of dragonflies, sorrow, and marbles.

Poetry Ha Ha

“Theories of comedy are no more comic in themselves than theories of sexuality are sexy.” Robert Archambeau digs into ideas of comedy and the poetry of Aaron Belz.

My Name Is A Saving Aphasia: Or, the Biography of Questions

“What’s the word for…?” Philip Metres tells a life story in looking for words.

Migraine Season

“Something terrible has to happen. I tell my student to complete the sentence: This is a problem because….Victoria Kornick‘s long poem in prose meditates on power, art, men talking to women, men abusing women, and trying to tell all the truth.


Playful, inventive and profoundly sad, this verse drama from Craig Morgan Teicher pits an 18-year-old Craig and his psychotherapist against each other and against his mother’s death.

from Barbie Chang

“Barbie Chang’s mother made her / wear two pair of // underwear no wonder she is weird.” In an excerpt from her latest sequence, Victoria Chang turns not fitting in into both a distressing image of American life and an occasion for linguistic delight.

from The New York Editions

“Is this how it feels to be put to use?” Writing under the star of Henry James, Michael D. Snediker summons words for what was out of reach. “Impossible to think about without tempting the disaster already invited by trying not not to to think of them.”

from Shadow Self

“Surrounding my great-grandfather’s life and death, I sensed an intentional silence.” Mixing prose memoir and poetic imagination, Karen Holmberg tries to reach through that silence into her family’s immigrant history.

What We Call a Mountain in the Valley, They Call a Hill on the Mountain

“Can you conjure a love that substantial,” asks Jaswinder Bolina, holding poetry up to everything within this country’s reach, “a lyric / more American than the one in the bed of the penitentiary // nestled between soybean fields?”