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when Diana Prince spins, hernimbus fills me with glee and glow and whenI was a boy I wore my mother’s highheels and wrapped my Binky around my necklike a cape and then coiled it at my sidemy blanket of truth and I spun and spunarms outstretched and wanted that light to fillme, envelop me the way I saw itchange Lynda Carter on TVFrom Skin Shift by Matthew Hittinger, reviewed today by Tory Adkisson
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“ I want to write a nice long poem for all you straight girls.
Your religion’s rose and glass castles
hold no place for me, I’m out of my princess phase.
Your pink pony wants to fuck you
She’s limp with longing from being
always touched and hollow,
comb-tugged right out of her field:Oh I’m too tired to worship at your kittenish emptiness.
”— An excerpt of A Poem for You by Ana Božičević. Her new book Rise in the Fall is reviewed today by -
“A new species of clam being eaten by a new species of bird./ And there’s no new man to record it./ To imagine a world is to clean it.” — From “The Windows,” a poem in Paul Hoover’s Desolation: Souvenir, reviewed at The Rumpus by Robin Morrissey. -
“Everything I am is here still, sitting
with my grandfather on lawn chairs
watching plum sunsets and the clouds
of his tabaco vanishing into the wind,
into the chirp of crickets echoing back
from stars that haven’t moved since
I first saw them, and the moon not yet
replaced by the glow of the city’s lights”— From ““Sitting on My Mother’s Porch in Westchester, Florida”, a poem in Richard Blanco’s Looking for the Gulf Motel, which was the last book of poems Sara Habein loved. -
“A poem?
Could be.
Bad judgment —
Probably.”— Robert Penn Warren, under discussion in David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: Foxes, Hedgehogs, and Bad Judgment. -
This was the year I deserved the winter,
and when it came there was nothing
I could say—
I could not send it back.It had come for me.
Forty-One Jane Doe’s by Carrie Olivia Adams, reviewed today by Marisa Siegel.
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“I’m an old man/ Made young again/ By the poems I love.” — Gregory Orr’s “The City of Poetry” -
Hi there! Does The Rumblr accept poetry submissions?
I’m afraid not! The Rumblr doesn’t really post exclusive content (Madame Clairevoyant and the Daily GIF are notable exceptions), we’re just serving up the best of what The Rumpus has to offer. The Rumpus doesn’t really publish poetry either outside of National Poetry Month, though we do review it.
However, if you are feeling a submitting itch, indulge it! A great place to get started with submitting your work to publications is Duotrope. (Give the free trial a shot, it’s worth it.)
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The First Law of Thermodynamics
Lauren Shapiro
All across America, men are inventing
the steam engine while women sew
the faces of presidents into quilts.
If a whistle is left alone in the forest
it may restore a measure of silence
to the world. Television
reminds me of a math problem
I got wrong on the SAT. Come on, Kathy says,
can’t you just enjoy it for once? By now we know
who patented the steam engine,
but think of all the men who tinkered around,
helping to invent it. Kathy is like one
of their wives, knitting a scarf
out of peach wool. Kathy, I say,
feeling a burst of goodwill,
I’ll give you all my collectibles.
Thanks, she says. I’ll take the John Lennon
dinnerware set for eight. As I walk home
to get it, the world looks like
a Brueghel painting and all the trees
are sending off beautiful
little equations into the air.Lauren Shapiro’s Easy Math is reviewed today by Weston Cutter.
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If I lived here
before long
I would go crazy
for the ocean.
A lake just isn’t enough
for me.
As beautiful as this gem
reflects earth’s diamond grave
I could die here for love’s sake
while I’m still strong.
Before long
(why take it seriously)
the sun’s gone down
as I was drowning in you
sorrows and all.How deep does it have to go?
A lake just isn’t enoughin this rough deep
cold.“Inland,” from Joseph Ceravolo’s Collected Poems, reviewed at The Rumpus by Barbara Berman.
