poetry
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From the Archive: Rumpus Original Poetry: Four Poems by sam sax
how many men have / passed through this room, through my lips?
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Calibrations: On Niina Pollari’s Path of Totality
Throughout the collection New York City reflects a unique landscape of loss, a space as full of grief as it is of everyday life, scientific facts, memory, motherhood, healing, love, and hope.
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RUMPUS POETRY BOOK CLUB EXCERPT: A FAVORITE ROOM BY CHEN CHEN
An excerpt from The Rumpus Poetry Book Club‘s September selection, Your Emergency Contact Has Experienced An Emergency by Chen Chen forthcoming from BOA Editions on September 13, 2022 Subscribe by August 15 to the Book Club to receive this title…
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From the Archive: Rumpus Original Poetry: Four Poems by Maggie Smith
What do we do? We birth the new citizens / & answer their bodies with our bodies. // We rock the new citizens to sleep. / We clothe them with skin & stamp // their passports with milk.
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From the Archive: We Are More: New Country, Old Bones
What did you hope to build in the / New country?
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Form as a Metaphor for Fatness: A Conversation with Stephanie Rogers
Is it ridiculous to say don’t give up? Because I mean it.
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An Open Letter in Lieu of a Review: on Still Life by Jay Hopler
. . . there’s some vital aspect to a person even the approach of oblivion can’t erase.
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The Last Book of Poems I Loved: Louise Glück’s Winter Recipes from the Collective
“I was glad at least to have heard it.”
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From the Archive: Rumpus Original Poetry: Three Poems by Eve L. Ewing
They look / for a lash that isn’t there, even them that never felt it. / It’s in their shoulders. / The lash lives in their shoulders.
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From the Archive: National Poetry Month Day 8: “cum shot” by Danez Smith
Poetry by Danez Smith for Poem-a-Day
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The Perfect Balance Between Momentum and Stillness: Chris Abani discusses Smoking the Bible
Masculinity isn’t a thing. It is an absence, an excavation. Men are raised in the erase of all that is tender and good and loving until for many of us, all that is left is an unfocused rage.
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From the Archive: Rumpus Original Poetry: Two Poems by Hanif Abdurraqib
If you really must know, the main difference / between fame and infamy is the number of / mornings / you wake up alone.