In Jericho Brown’s The Tradition, out now from Copper Canyon Press, poetry—like a virus—becomes a form of knowledge susceptible to transmission.
Sally Wen Mao's stunning second collection, Oculus, focuses not just on sight but on the politics of seeing—its intimacies, failures, elusions, evasions.
Whatever they are, I’m sending them your way.
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.