Posts by: Rumpus Original Poems
Dear weather, what are you?
It’s not the season, but there
he stands: old man in flannel,
Have you ever been a member of or in any way associated either directly or indirectly with?
Indirectly a biometric hazard, activate. Associated with a cold rubber stamp. Are we within earshot of a dissection table? Your eagle describes each tremor of the splay.
I am a hide
A pond / reflecting / koi swimming slipping through strands / of refraction. Cue shadow and its companion. The pathology justifies nothing / the disease has created....more
The Great Blue Heron of Dunbar Road
That we might walk out into the woods together,
and afterwards make toast
in our sock feet, still damp from the fern’s
wet grasp, the spiky needles stuck to our
legs, that’s all I wanted, the dog in the mix,
Poem For Her In Time
–After Her and Wallace Stevens
Thirteen days. This morning I counted,
read Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
Tú, que asímismo
en la copa de tu verbo
desbordas el líquido.
Yo, que despeño tu grito...more
In the same
Uncle Remus lies,
my father’s crypt
awaits, his mother,
People here think my accent
is charming because America
is young. Today at the Friday bakery
While John Berryman Crosses The Washington Avenue Bridge
6 January 1972
While John Berryman crosses the Washington Avenue Bridge,...more
Instantaneous Letter Writer
After the others go to bed, my lamp
the only light for six miles,
Apollinaire in Iowa
After “Les Colchiques”
The prairie is poisonous but pretty in autumn...more
Post-Apocalypse (with HGTV Magazine)...more
All the Unemployed Artists I Know Have iPhones:
We walked to the sea with a bucket
and a hand rake. We dug out our
kidneys, put them in the bucket, then
waited for rain you said the weatherman
promised. On the beach, we lay...more
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Take me. Take this. My wasted life and all
its bliss—the sea of your waking body
Sestina After a Miscarriage
After that long loss they stumble home
with an empty locket and box of ashes,
stand crying on each other in the kitchen,
spill half the box into her hands
and out across the unwashed counter
trying to fill the one with the other.
One Last Thing I Must Tell You About America
When spring comes at last
it rains white petals.
how long has it been since
his legs stretched towards heaven?
lord, let him be, don’t strike him
for believing he’s you. he’s high
this morning, he called his body
his body & believed it...more
from “The Singing Ape, Or, Life in Pink”...more
According to the Testimony to the Grand Jury of Newport, Rhode Island by the Sailor John Cranston, After Throwing a Coromantee Woman Into the Sea, James DeWolf, the Captain of the Slave Ship Polly, Mourned the Loss of the Good Chair to Which He Had Strapped His Victim c....more
Innocence: A Memoir
All souls grow roughly, out of careless errors.
This month brings two things: the moon and you, both at my breasts.
“We were just kids.” –Patti Smith
I’m asking if she wants
dumbbells on the top
or sort of smack down
Pending Approval for Suicide Barriers on the Golden Gate Bridge, Questions for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors
Chairman, can you update us on fog?
Chairman, how many nets can $76 million buy?...more
Welcome to National Poetry Month 2015! For the last six years, we here at The Rumpus have run a new poem every day in April (and often into May) to celebrate this under-appreciated art form. We’ve tried to be diverse in our choices, both in terms of the poets whose work we’ve featured and in the styles (or schools, if you will) of poetry we pulled from....more