“We only have copies, but they, too, stun / with the ever-out-of-reach, the waylaid poem” | by Jacqueline Osherow
DORA MALECH is the author of four books of poems, most recently, Flourish (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2020) and Stet (Princeton University Press, 2018). In 2019, Eris Press published Soundings, a UK Selected of Malech’s poems and drawings. Her poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry, The Best American Poetry, and numerous other …
by Adrienne Rich: Dark blue shot with death rays but only a short distance
by Adrienne Rich: In the old city incendiaries abound / who hate this place stuck to their footsoles
by Jane Blue: He was picking up pine cones for a cockatiel. / She was a ghostly film unwinding.
by Maurya Simon: Tiny minarets of dew balance on blade-tips.
by Maurya Simon: Slowly, like a hot tear tracing the skin’s folds, / God drew His finger along my parted lips,
by Stanley Moss: Until the rain takes over my life I’ll never change, / although I know by heart the Lord’s Prayer and the prayer Christ prayed
by Holly Prado: death: one clear tone through wood. / here’s the apple tree my family left,
by Holly Prado: this bird: its thread of green spins / healthily right through the tree’s / large taking-in of sun.