i want/ to reply/ about it all/ when/ you message me/ at 3am/ about/ the grasshopper/ on/ your/ toothbrush.
The helicopter browses over/ the city on the verge of waking, a waterfall/ of alarm./ Where is everything you try not to see?
Staring at these bones/ in the utter rhythm of sun/ they seem inevitable,/ but only might have been.
Look at the map, the clock and the calendar.
Put simply, the wanting was for one thing only:
Before cocks crowed I believed your eyelids opened dawn’s book.
I’m a little confused.
Thom Gunn's work evokes an oozing liminality that is addressed in an interest in the body and masculinity—ranging from cowboys to Elvis.
A new edition of selected poems by Makoto Ooka, translated by Janine Beichman, is a treasure chest for lovers of Japanese poetry.
It’s the wrong exit, and I’m lost on my way/ to Malibu Beach. I might not hear the freeway/ if the car windows were up.
The poems below have been excerpted from a longer work called Wulf & Eadwacer, an experimental translation by M.L. Martin.
These poems by Chilean poet Stella Díaz Varín are from her collection, 'Time, Imaginary Measure,' and have been translated from Spanish by Rebecca Levi.