National Poetry Month Day 14: “The Vindication of Judas” by Daniel W.K. Lee
The Vindication of Judas Forgive me at last, Brother, for the death sentence: a kiss that revealed me, an act of obedience which began your martyrdom. Who else but you—who…
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National Poetry Month Day 13: “Today” by Gina Myers
Today Each year I know less about myself but the insurance company knows how much my life is worth. This is for those who suffer & endure & laugh about…
Rumpus Contributor Kima Jones on NPR’s Code Switch
When NPR’s Code Switch went searching for “young poets who were livening up the literary landscape” in honor of National Poetry Month, they found themselves in the world of Rumpus…
National Poetry Month Day 12: “My First Male-to-Male Kiss” by Rigoberto González
My First Male-to-Male Kiss ______was on Mexican TV. In the 80s. Believe me. Like my cousin Mari, I too wished I could be Érika Buenfil, her blonde locks so close…
Red Mavis by Merrill Gilfillan
Patrick James Dunagan reviews Merrill Gilfillan's Red Mavis today in Rumpus Poetry.
National Poetry Month Day 11: “The History of Asterisks” by Elisa Gabbert and Kathleen Rooney
The History of Asterisks It is midnight under the sky’s dome ceiling. The moon speaks, saying nothing of consequence. John Wayne is from Iowa, so we hitchhiked West and I…
The Saints of Streets by Luisa Igloria
Christian Anton Gerard reviews (in epistolary form) Luisa Igloria's The Saints of Streets today in Rumpus Poetry.
Devout Apostrophes
This week, the Paris Review has a really beautiful interview up with the poet Mary Szybist. She talks about religion, Wallace Stevens and her abiding love for the apostrophe: I have always been attracted to apostrophe, perhaps…
The Language of Poetry
In honor of National Poetry Month, we are taking time to consider how poetry makes us better readers of all different types of literature. George Quasha suggests that learning to read…
National Poetry Month Day 10: “11 February 2004 / Buffalo” by Jessica Smith
11 February 2004 / Buffalo –Jessica Smith
How To Travel Alone
Some days I come out wrinkled like a jacket / exhumed from a suitcase. Some days / I’m as constant as the last soggy corn flake / at the bottom of a bowl of milk, / that piece that keeps giving...