“Death, Is Always,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Amy King
Death, Is Always Turning my hair inside out, I only see Emma Bee making sense of excess, making something of it online, via high fashion, which shouldn’t be but is,…
Poetry
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Manifests Both Terror and Dis-Ease
What is a woman’s place in a world full of overwhelmingly masculine ideas and works? Marthe Reed, in her newest book of poetry, Gaze, examines the many intersections between women…
Blizzard Over Bosphorous
A Fire-Proof Box is a porous work, languages overlapped, breathing, an English translation that manages to capture the icy weight of classically “Russian” sensibilities.
The Rumpus Poetry Book Club Chat with Amy Newman
The Rumpus Poetry Book Club chats with Amy Newman about her poetry collection Dear Editor.
Permanent Water
You just texted me two cock pics It used to be more artful The way you did it, the composition. Like last week. It just stopped raining. I have a…
“A Little Sign,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Matthew Rohrer
When I was little / we ate a meal / at my great-grandmother’s farm.
A Sunny Day is a Sufficient Cathedral
The book’s strongest moments are often its quietest, as when the complexity of the speaker’s engagement with himself and the world is repulsed or rerouted by automatic prompts and alienation.
Synapses Erupt Like Sparrows
In Sancta, divinity irradiates. The afterlife approaches nuclear, dangerous and fascinating, a mysterium tremendum fascinans that can kill you with overexposure.
The Garden, Disseminated, Overgrown
Out of reverence for the body’s irreducibility, Mort’s keeps strictly close to the phenomenal world, thereby freeing her imagination to honor all the body’s modes: five-fold sensuality, hunger as well…
Their Faces Blur in Every Mirror
Darling writes with incredible crispness, but the world she describes remains cold, stark, upper-class, and difficult to relate to.
Rumpus Original Poetry: A History of Melancholia: Glossary of Terms
beloved. The raison d'être of the melancholic's affliction. Consider the graceful line of his wool coat, its fabric dark against the towering snowdrifts.
These Veins of Leaf, Hand, Storm and Stream
Ideally, critics and teachers are humbled by their vocations and the artistry the vocations expose them to, encouraging effort to stay fresh , emotionally resonant and intellectually worthwhile. Say yes…