Does becoming a parent damage one’s happiness? Or is language really just that slippery?
Gary Bouchard’s “headline poem” is part quirk, part admiration; a blank verse soliloquy uttered by a man who appreciates the value of boots — “Soles, holes and all the sweet manure they hold!”
Anuja Ghimire juxtaposes the personal and the political in her recollection of the 1991 assassination of Indian ex-Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi.
In the wake of Susan Olsen’s homophobic rant, Jeffrey Berg’s bold reimagining of Mike Brady raises provoking ideas about sexuality, fatherhood, and American manhood.
We start 2017 with Mark Ward’s exhortation that poetry embrace “the callous bark,” since “to beautify /the world [we] cannot be contained in stanzas.”
Looking back and moving forward.
Honored that Hannah Lee Jones’s poem is our last for 2016. It’s a fitting one to go out on for us who feel “abandoned in that snow country”; “a howl with no walls to receive it.”
Tina Cane recalls the glories of a rough and tumble NYC childhood.
David Wright ponders the convergence of the living and the dead, the comfortable and the impoverished, “the residual lives /I’ve put on and cannot shed.”
“I startled awake /to think of my child as an old woman, /who has always been exactly /who she is, never who she may be.”
Speak truth to power.
Here are GMP’s nominees for poetry.
A man walks around with a bullet in his head in Gerald Yelle’s surreal yet oddly believable poem.
Josette Akresh-Gonzales’s Pushcart-nominated poem is one of mourning and celebration, in which “The front door is open for the ten /people who will say the kaddish with me. They don’t have to knock.”
As we approach World AIDS Day, John Whittier Treat’s call and response poem raises questions about the ways by which we commemorate.
Darius Stewart and his mother grieve the impending loss of a good man– “slugging our way /to the altar for grace, bartering for his life.”