Patrick James Dunagan reviews Fred Moten’s The Feel Trio today in Rumpus Poetry....more
The Rumpus Poetry Book Club chats with Keetje Kuipers about her new book The Keys to the Jail, alter egos, landscapes, political poems, and how the fictionalized and the real inhabit the same space....more
Nick Morrissey reviews Katy Didden’s The Glacier’s Wake today in Rumpus Poetry....more
It is a world where camp has replaced art. There is something safe and comforting in the smallness of this world; it is a world we recognize....more
Molly Sutton Kiefer reviews Martha Silano’s Reckless Lovely today in Rumpus Poetry....more
Barbara Berman reviews Philip Schultz’s The Wherewithal A Novel in Verse today in Rumpus Poetry....more
James Crews reviews David Axelrod’s Folly today in Rumpus Poetry....more
While poetry reveals what is fantastic and dangerous, a poem is not a fairytale escape. The triumphs in a poem are foremost triumphs of the imagination more so than the soul....more
Tova Gannana reviews Frances Justine Post’s Beast today in Rumpus Poetry....more
Lisa Williams reviews Saskia Hamilton’s Corridor today in Rumpus Poetry....more
Melissa Leigh Gore reviews Kamilah Aisha Moon’s She Has a Name today in Rumpus Poetry....more
I would be remiss if I did not mention that these associations are, of course, bittersweet; however, that word has become hollow through its overuse....more
Benjamin Landry reviews Gillian Conoley’s Peace today in Rumpus Poetry....more
Sean Singer reviews Kevin Simmonds’s Bend To It today in Rumpus Poetry....more
Kent Shaw reviews Nick Twemlow’s Palm Trees today in Rumpus Poetry....more
The ritual of poetic discovery is a reanimation of the whole metaphor of human dream and reason, irrationality and rationality, the ancient and the contemporary, the organic and the artifice....more
Julie Marie Wade reviews Rochelle Hurt’s The Rusted City today in Rumpus Poetry....more
Laura Haynes reviews Mark Wunderlich’s The Earth Avails today in Rumpus Poetry....more
In the second episode of The Rumpus Late Nite Poetry Show, Dave Roderick sits down with Matthew Zapruder for a chat about his latest collection, Sun Bear, his dual role as poet and musician, and close encounters with Grace Paley....more
Author’s note: I wrote this poem about five years ago when my relationship with my father was strained. My father died earlier this year, but we spoke on the phone not long before and managed a small reconciliation, for which I am eternally thankful....more
Brachah Goykadosh reviews Victoria Redel’s Woman Without Umbrella today in Rumpus Poetry....more
When I read “Scheherazade” (and still, I read it often), I am possessed by the light of the fleeting, the tangibility of time slipping through my fingers....more
City of Eternal Spring
My mind rises up as the silos of interchanges,
streams, passages of myself in floating layers
so nothing can connect, and I dream emptiness
on ships sailing to new places for new names,
this ship my hands cupped in front of me,
a beggar’s bowl, a scooped out moon, a mouth
opened to make noiseless screams, to arrange,
to begin, to break through to stop my arrogance,
believing what I touch, see, feel, hear, taste make
a case for being alive, so I can stop believing what
happens when a caterpillar dreams itself beautiful.
Without an imaginary world, without a proper backpack, without my little pink orb,
without an old tablet’s commandments, without a hair dryer, empty hands, empty
birdcage obscured by a crate of empties.
Left without a predictable choice, without direct involvement, without being wiser, left
without leave, left what I came with, left with myself....more
Prodigal Electrons Return to Shine
is the name of the movie
she wants to see,
the first the daughter
of a famous director
whose plots to her
always seemed designed
with more sophisticated
about a man who wears
gray excellent suits
and thinks too much
Pinkened quince with potatoes, cold for breakfast.
Stones by the door I’ve pocketed the last year.
Too bright today to see the road. One blue
for the sky, one for the hills, no shadows.
The spoons and how they fit as a group, each
one becoming plural.
Barbara Berman reviews The Poetry of Derek Walcott 1948-2013 today in Rumpus Poetry....more
And we entered the Valley of the Rogue.
And we slowed to a crawl.
The night’s envelope sealed us in.
After several hours, cars deep on the interstate,
we resigned ourselves: this first night
would be the gateway, the opening to a roguish place
where I would no longer have answers,
become unable to make plans, in other words:
Sean Singer reviews Douglas Kearney’s Patter today in Rumpus Poetry....more