Jennifer Moxley–How lovely it is not to go. To suddenly take ill.
Jorie Graham–A rooster crows all day from mist outside the walls.
Mary Oliver–You do not have to be good.
Molly Brodak–boundlessness secretly exists, I hear.
Robert Haas–So the first dignity, it turns out, is to get the spelling right.
Maura Stanton–Who made me feel by feeling nothing.
Melissa Green–They’ve mown the summer meadow.
Ben Mazer–All is urgent, just because it gives, and in the mirror, life to life life gives.
Mary Angela Douglas–The larks cry out and not with music.
Ada Limón–just clouds—disorderly, and marvelous and ours.
Patricia Lockwood–How will Over Niagara Falls In A Barrel marry Across Niagara Falls On A Tightrope?
Kevin Young–I want to be doused in cheese and fried.
Donna Masini–Even sex is no exit. Ah, you exist.
Natalie Scenters-Zapico–apartments that feel like they are by the sea, but out the window there is only freeway.
Cristina Sánchez López–Have you heard strings? They seem like hearts that don’t want to forget themselves.
Emily Kendal Frey–How can you love people without them feeling accused?
Stephen Cole–Where every thing hangs on the possibility of understanding and time, thin as shadows, arrives before your coming.
Marilyn Chin–It’s not that you are rare, nor are you extraordinary, O lone wren sobbing on the bodhi tree.
Kushal Poddar–Your fingers are alight. Their blazing forest burns towards me.
Joie Bose–Isn’t that love even if it answers not to the heart or heat but to the moment, to make it complete?
Stephen Sturgeon–City buses are crashing and I can’t hear Murray Perahia.
Philip Nikolayev–I wept like a whale. You had changed my chemical composition forever.
Tim Seibles–That instant when eyes meet and slide away—even love blinks, looks off like a stranger.
Lori Desrosiers–I wish you were just you in my dreams.
Julie Carr–Either I loved myself or I loved you.
Nalini Priyadarshni–Denial won’t redeem you or make you less vulnerable. My unwavering love just may.
Chumki Sharma–After every rain I leave the place for something called home.
Rowan Ricardo Phillips–It does not not get you quite wrong.
Connie Voisine–The oleanders are blooming and heavy with hummingbirds.
Lynn Hejinian–You spill the sugar when you lift the spoon.
Joe Green–I’m tired. Don’t even ask me about the gods.
Susan Wood–The simple fact is very plain. They want the bitterness to remain.