poetry
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You May Say Fist, You May Say Teeth
The unsentimental and honest display of Levin’s attitudes towards loss – her own losses as well the ways that others grieve their lost loved ones – is both moving and strangely distancing, as if by holding her emotions to the…
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The Last Book I Loved: The Triggering Town
When I read Richard Hugo’s “The Triggering Town” essay some years ago, I understood it intuitively and from my own experience of writing.
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The Icy Hand of Love
In Double Shadow, suffering puts its hypothermic hand on the backs of all living creatures. In that sense, it might help to think of it as a spiritual book, a lyric struggle of an individual in the face of mortal…
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The Rumpus Poetry Book Club Chat with Noelle Kocot
The Rumpus Poetry Book Club chats with Noelle Kocot about her collection The Bigger World.
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I Knocked On the Walls, In a Circle
The Chameleon Couch proves itself an expertly crafted book from a poet peaking in his awareness and execution of all the tangled dialectics that manifest in his art.
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Freak Flag Fly
[T]his is no Rand McNally; what makes the collection exciting is Iredell’s delicious sense of humor, his play with language and the dexterity with which he varies his voice.
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Why I Chose Things Come On
Rumpus Poetry Club Board Member Camille Dungy on why she chose Joseph Harrington’s Things Come On as the March selection of The Rumpus Poetry Book Club. Devastation. Conflation. Preoccupation. Disintegration. Joseph Harrington’s Things Come On (Wesleyan UP) is a book…
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Behold My Clearance Discounts
Nick Demske operates with a kind of magnetic-yet-repulsive force, powerfully driven by various tensions of opposites.
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Poetic Lives Online: Links by Brian Spears
You would not believe the crazy crap that’s happened the last two times I tried to do this column, but I’m back at least for this week. For Rumpus Poetry Book Club members, save this Tuesday for our conversation with…
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When Tar Roads Came In Barefoot Age
Les Murray seems to want to make his experiences into some kind of shared history. In fact, this blurred line between personal memory and shared history is the spine to this body of poems.
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I Remember a Black Fog
Cedar Sigo avoids the usual pitfalls when exploring queer identity, minority identity and a political perspective thinking progressives can work with. He isn’t trite. He is never overwrought, and he brings a kinetic ardor to every line.
