By Martha Silano
Is this the last time I’ll admire the guys
in their neon-yellow slickers, guiding us
to our parking spots…
in their neon-yellow slickers, guiding us
to our parking spots…
Explore Poems: The Body
Showing 1-20 of 1,837 poems
- By Carmen Calatayudmy body at the water’s edge of opioid comfort
under the brain’s night sky
rounding the blue curve … - By Rigoberto GonzálezI’m consuming myself,
my doctor says, and I get
the urge each time I lift
a fork. How it rattles
with… - By Martha SilanoBecause why not? Why not take the smashed pinecone
of my life, render it in purple? Why not dream of… - By Karl KnightsYou left a note.
‘Please don’t judge me
too harshly.’ I read it
at your memorial.
I hate that my voice
didn… - By Karl KnightsIt’s Boxing Day and I’m nearly ten and a half.
I got the camouflaged Action Man for Christmas.
I told … - By William Butler Yeats'Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home,
Those hands to close the eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old... - By William Butler YeatsI
I sought a theme and sought for it in vain,
I sought it daily for six weeks or so.
Maybe at last being but a broken man
I must be satisfied with my heart, although
Winter and summer till old age began
My circus animals... - By William Butler YeatsI
My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;
Fix every wandering thought upon
That quarter where all thought is... - By Jalynn Harrisit never occurred to me,
this virus on the pout
of my thumb, multiplying as
sheep scat; a cluster of… - By Julia FiedorczukTranslated By Bill JohnstonFrom within my bodily singularity
I play at sending out gentle sunbeams.
I don't believe in myself, but… - By Camonghne FelixWhat else could I say except I agree with you really am bulldozed
with grief
my strength a whistle in… - By Sylvia ChanI want to begin this poem with two stories:
1. In 1984, my mother was pulled over for speeding in a rural, still unnamed village in Taishan. The cop was a forty-year-old man who let her go because of her age... - By Tilsa OttaOdio la violencia
Así sea hermosa y moderna
Le temo a la ciencia
Cuando hace realidad mis peores sueños… - By Felicia ZamoraWhere wor{l}d & the tangible object of that wor{l}d collide. My brain thinks traces & again, Singh’s words at the back of my throat, The unconscious is the most evasive archive of all, yet is pulsing right there inside you....
- By Rickey LaurentiisWhy doubt I’d grow breasts a ‘Natural’ way?
Am I not ‘Real’ Flesh? Am I not enworthied sway
of that Biology? Not ‘Cis,’ you think me ‘alien’?
Loose? Do I so estrange? Wouldn’t I be, monstrous, the ‘Gorgon’
Lady with my two ‘new,’ added,... - By Felicia ZamoraI think about division. How we splice & splice & splice, mentally & anatomically. A cell becomes cells becomes exponential cells. A gorging. Always, our becoming; our something tangled in multiplicity. How the body yearns to rewild from behind muscle...
- By Cheryl ClarkeA Mass is something you say on Good Friday,
after we walk the Stations for the last time.
The radiologist will
tell me the same thing or not:
“Appears to be a carcinoma.”
Appears? - By Tilsa OttaTranslated By Farid MatukI hate violence
Even if it’s beautiful and modern
I fear science
When it makes my worst dreams come true… - By CAConrad“I’m here for the show” the man said
looking under Frank's shirt for the door
“I’m no theater” Frank said
a line formed
must he admit them all?
many had umbrellas
a blind woman
waited with
her dog
“it’s gonna be a great show” someone said
“but when’s he gonna...