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Category: Poetry
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Watch the GapA New York found-language poemThe next station is—Nathan, sit down,Jingle bells jingle bells,Jingle all the way,Mommy, that’s my school!This is perfect sweater weather,Shop and save, shop and save, Fifteen dollars for an omelette?I’m sitting on a huge pile of equity,Will you stop? I’m eating,You get to go to this beautiful place,It’s not my…
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Today’s poem is by Adrienne Su, whose book Peach State I read and loved several years ago. “Peaches” begins, A crate of peaches straight from the farmhas to be maintained, or eaten in days.Obvious, but in my family, they went so fast,I never saw the mess that punishes delay. Read the rest online at the…
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CalculationsThe algorithm slips hervideos of smiling monkeys,confused cats, dancing frogs, and dogs speaking of bacon.She glimpses reels bythe Metropolitan Opera,the Freelancers Union, andEncyclopaedia Britannica,but skips ahead toHeart some snakes in wigs,erratic emus, a pig named Bikini,cockatoos flapping to Queen, her pocket-sized theater of the absurd.Deadline unmet, errand not run, andthe room echoes with her laughter.Susan…
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The last poetry project I started was to create poems from newspaper headlines, and after a couple of months, I just couldn’t stand it any more. What’s the Kenny Rogers line? Know when to fold ’em…know when to run? I ran. Poetry and I did not keep steady company over the spring and summer, for…
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Mural by Sara Erenthal, Allen Street, New York, New York. Photo by Susan Thomsen, 2020. Today's bit of poetry goodness is the February 26th, 2025, edition of the New Yorker's Poetry Podcast in which Jericho Brown reads a work by Elizabeth Alexander ("When") and one of his own ("Colosseum.") He tells poetry editor Kevin Young,…
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Definitions Break is a wordThat kicks at the end,With legs of a KSevering ties,Though it beginsWith a buxom, promising B. Break can be rest,Pause measured by coffee,Perhaps in class,Perhaps at the office,A siesta of sortsAs darkness drops in. Break is a verbEmployed against horses,Stomping spirits,Rupturing traditions,Punting friends,Into dangerous orbits. Mend is a wordThat fixes the…
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Thank you to Claude McKay (1889-1948) for the following and its title, both of which remind me that one day we'll be done with this interminable winter season. There will be an "after." Bring on the droning bees and the ferns! (See also Yeats's "Lake Isle of Innisfree" for more bees.) I found the McKay…
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Here is a poem by Patricia Spears Jones, whose work I have admired ever since reading her piece in the 1994 anthology Aloud: Voices from the Nuyorican Poets Café. This one is called "Comedy with Flutes," and it was first published in 2023. The Poetry Foundation link includes audio. Do take a listen! I'm adding…
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No doubt someone has shared this poem on Poetry Friday before; it's such a good one. I'm still working on my own poems, made of words from headlines in the New York Times. Right now they are coming out really angry, and whether that speaks to the zeitgeist, my own frame of mind, or both,…
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