Poetry Magazine
FROM THE CURRENT ISSUE OF
Poetry Magazine
Diné bizaad is a language of patience and cunning. It is quiet, in the distance, like a coming
storm.
Diné bizaad is a language of patience and cunning. It is quiet, in the distance, like a coming
storm.
Article
By Kimberly Blaeser
Poem
By Sherwin Bitsui
Poem
By Nia Francisco
The clearest memory I have of my friend: his body perched like a sparrow atop the tallest
tree.
The clearest memory I have of my friend: his body perched like a sparrow atop the tallest
tree.
Poem
By Jesse Holth
Poem
By Miguel A. Vega
Poem
By Allison Swenson
The hoot of being alive. Name it
whatever you
whatever you
like.
The hoot of being alive. Name it
whatever you
whatever you
like.
Poem
By Patrick Dundon
Poem
By Martha Silano
Poem
By francine j. harris
When we go together, what is the simple form we
make?
When we go together, what is the simple form we
make?
Poem
By Jane Hirshfield
Poem
By Rüştü Onur
Translated By Ulaş Özgün & Hüseyin Alhas
Poem
By Adam Wolfond
Recent Features from Poetry
Prose from Poetry Magazine
By Chris HoshnicIt isn’t the final product of a poem I’m interested in, but the way poetry can bring community together.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
By Luci TapahonsoOur language reminds us of the legacy that connects us to the past and instills that legacy in this present time.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
By Esther BelinThe writing in this issue manifests how we are gathering our sounds and patchworking the remnants.
From the Poetry Magazine Archive
- PoemBy Carmen GiménezIn Lima, my mother screams from her bed and from a garden
and in the parlor of her nursing home, and… - PoemBy Nikki GiovanniI watched Mommy
Cook
Though I cooked
With Grandmother
With Grandmother I learned
To pluck chickens
Peel carrots
Turn chittlins inside out
Scrub pig feet
With Mommy I watched
leftovers for stew
Or vegetable soup
Great northern beans
Mixed collards turnips and mustard greens
Garlic cloves Bay Leaves
Very beautifully green
Stiff so fresh
With just a... - PoemBy Tayi TibbleRinsing the sea salt out of our bikinis
with the drinking water and getting a slap
upside the head from your mother with her
House & Garden magazine reserved especially
for fanning away mosquitoes and sighing
because we know that this is how
it’s always going...
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History
Poetry was founded in Chicago by Harriet Monroe in 1912.
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