Rumpus Original Poems
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“That Old Desire,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Meghan O’Rourke
That Old Desire Was a fire licking and hot, a red fur with blue trim, like an Elizabethan ruff, if a ruff could be made
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“into a film,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Ryan Eckes
a wonderful thing about philadelphia is / it’s not new york city
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“The Mathematician,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Carl Adamshick
The Mathematician She’s taken to sleeping late. Only recently have I come to stare on her as phenomenon.
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“In the Pink,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Maureen Thorson
In the Pink I walk the beach by the Tickle Inn and I know that breakups suck.
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“Thousands are gathered outside the interior ministry…” a Rumpus Original Poem by Dora Malech
“Thousands are gathered outside the interior ministry…” Bloody lullabies soothe the centuries. Can’t see the cradles for the tops of trees but you know the rest: you can’t rest, poor babies.
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“Scissor Half,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Jacqueline Waters
You were telling me your dream / at some point you started / just making it up
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“Ode to Ross Watson,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Steve Fellner
Ode to the Painter Ross Watson Don’t imagine me as the woman who you replicated from the Vermeer
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“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, along with every other thing, both uber- and central- Pacific—…
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“Kināyah,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Marthe Reed
Kināyah “[concerning] women, the sexual organs, defecation, various forms of uncleanliness and everything which is a bad omen” –Sandra Naddaff “when a woman desires something, no one can stop her” –The Thousand and One Nights her “slit” different forms of…
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“A Little Sign,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Matthew Rohrer
When I was little / we ate a meal / at my great-grandmother’s farm.
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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.
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“La Femme Rouge: Redux,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Veronica Golos
La Femme Rouge: Redux (Red Riding Hood, Aged) What I know is more than thorn and thistle, whistling through an oak forest, trees large as barns.