Explore Poems: Landscapes & Pastorals
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From the magazine:Valley
By Li JianjunTranslated By Wang PingOne morning in summer
I came upon a valley
With a school of horses
Sheep, larks, and ninety-nine apricot…From the magazine:
Dá’ák’eh ahooł’níi (To make a crop)
By Chris HoshnicDá’ák’eh ahooł’níi niłch’i doo naadą́ą́.
Naadą́ niłch’i
Doo Sodizin.
Niłchi adiin goo
Sodizin bee ’adoolnii…From the magazine:Female Rain
By Doug Gonzalezonly I stood in the rain with wet skin. I could taste the dew though it had not yet found my lips. …From the magazine:Lost Quails in an Easter Pastoral
By Hershman JohnLast Easter, I gave my mother-in-law a large, brown, simple ceramic
Navajo water pot, shiny with pine…- By James JoyceI heard their young hearts crying
Loveward above the glancing oar
And heard the prairie grasses sighing… - By Meredith Strickerin the DMZ ravines north of the Kaesong wastes edging
south of the perfect ruler’s pink and prisoned paradisethere is a climate paying no attention to us where cranes
repopulate serpentine deltas - By Carolyn ForchéThese are your stones, assembled in matchbox and tin,
collected from roadside, culvert, and viaduct,
battlefield… - By Timothy DonnellyAnd though we had fed long and well at the table
the talk always turned to whether to go on
regardless… - By Andrew FrisardiPRIMEAt dawn, the shapes of cypresses in fog
Were fingers pointing up from graves, as if what's born… From the magazine:a sudden hammering
By Kristi Stoutthere is a woman in love with my husband. she buried a lamb this morning i didn’t. ahead of myself. …- By James JoyceHe travels after a winter sun,
Urging the cattle along a cold red road,
Calling to them, a voice they … - By Peter O’LearyThe great spastic glass of the Sun
in winter's going glare. :: Wind's antic helicoid
winding upward through… - By William OlsenMy father bought us this trip, he'd taken it, he wanted to give us an experience,
our eyes to see for… - By Tilsa OttaTranslated By Farid MatukI saw a herd of toads in the gully of my reflection
Staring at each other arguing over insects
It wasn… From the magazine:
[Vi una manada de sapos…]
By Tilsa OttaVi una manada de sapos mirándose entre ellos
Discutiendo insectos en el cauce de mi reflejo
No fue rom…- By Bertrand N. O. WalkerLonely, open, vast and free,
The dark'ning desert lies;
The wind sweeps o'er it fiercely,
And the yellow… - By Emily Wilsonstripped batting of cloud
glimpsed ligaments
dusk coming up under
lithographic, nib-hatchings
instruments click
the fine-sprung locust
replicate dinge along hill-lines
tailings of umber, the rust smudge
There is still that hemmed ocean of oaks
the various reds, the somehow
silver cast over the... From the magazine:
Πρωί Ζεστής Μέρας Με Άπνοια
By Phoebe Giannisiκρεμόμουν ολόκληρη από την ελιά σαν τόξο τεντωμένη.
ανάσκελη με τη ράχη στο δέντρο
την κοιλιά στον αέρα
χέρια σε ανάταση
πόδια ανοιχτά στον οίστρο
στην οικουμένη αιωρούμενα
ενώ ο τόπος βούιζε
από τις απλωμένες ως το επέκεινα χορωδίες των τζιτζικιών
μαιόμουν μόνη μακριά από τους άλλους
για ώρες...From the magazine:
Morning Hot and Windless
By Phoebe GiannisiTranslated By Brian Sneedenspread out along the olive tree like a drawn bow.
my back against the tree
my abdomen against the sky
hands uplifted
feet open to winds
suspended in the world
while everywhere the endless drone
of cicadas in chorus
alone I strove away from the others
for hours splitting...