I see the receding glacier on Lyman Lake, veins going back to the core. Dark and mysterious veins in the hidden rock, half what it used to be, year by year cleaving the blue inner chamber away. How much is a dollar worth? — "Copper Falls" by Kai Carlson-Wee: muse.jhu.edu/pub/48/artic...

Far down valley the pale red fireweed blooms. Tamaracks bend in the saddle of Buckskin, the bracken keeps touching my hand. Glaciers, avalanche shoots in the alder, deadfall building the blueberry bush and the subterranean lung. The clear unconditional light. —Kai Carlson-Wee, The Missouri Review

The oldest living redwood falls. Carburetor rusting on the concrete floor. —Kai Carlson-Wee in The Missouri Review: muse.jhu.edu/pub/48/artic...

A cello and fifteen human voices humming can approximate the sound of a drone. —Julia C Alter in @theshorepoetry.bsky.social: www.theshorepoetry.org/julia-c-alte...

omg yes Brian Teare again yes theadroitjournal.org/issue-fifty-...

Still, I must tell you— When I stepped over the rabbit, glass-eyed and mangled in the tall grass, my mind did not at first see its matted body for what it was. —Emily Harman in @theshorepoetry.bsky.social (excerpt) www.theshorepoetry.org/emily-harman...

four from issue 3 of Whiptail, a journal of the single line poem, via @haikufound.bsky.social

Ali Choudhary in wildness in the December issue of wildness opening a damn poem

Behind the thin grey curtain, who would want gloved hands touching their pain, asking if it feels alright. I can’t stop smiling, saying it tickles. — Ali Choudhary in wildness readwildness.com/40/choudhary...

Been reading lots of W.C.W. with a friend, but he wasn't here to read this one with me. Maybe you will. On @upenn.edu's Pennsound it's titled "Rigamarole." From Spring And All, via @wikicommons.bsky.social:

William Carlos Williams

our thomas in the first issue of Whiptail, 2021, a journal of the single line poem

It’s cute how people think Trumpists care how upcoming elections will go like they plan to keep having them

deeply honored to be included in the Michigan City Review of Books today!! here’s one of the poems, hope you enjoy it & the other two too :)

it's here! on the heels of our last big snow, enjoy some queer plant-based writing to keep yourself hale, hearty, and very gay!

we never kissed in the city only in cattail wind in the hush of fog-heavy reeds where no one asked who’s who Sarp Sozdinler in the new issue of @alocasiamag.bsky.social alocasia.org

"tell me how to love / decay / how to love nature after its ruin / how to appreciate / ruin / tell me what it means to / love an invasive species / how to explain the beauty of kudzu" —arushi (aera) rege :: “nuclear winter, burning planet” alocasia.org/2025/10/20/a...

Galway Kinnell, "The Path Among the Stones," from The Book of Nightmares (excerpt)

Larry Eigner

Christine Shan Shan Hou

Victoria Chan in The 2River View: This, too, another landmark of layers. Crumbling asphalt blanketing nighthawks and primary colors. —"Away in Washington, I See the Capitol and Think of You" www.2river.org/2RView/30_1/... @2river.bsky.social

Victoria Chan in The 2River View How can I say I want I want I want without a wasteland trailing behind me? I tell everyone what I lack is not what I’m missing. —"On Explaining Asexuality" www.2river.org/2RView/30_1/...

four ancient poems about tea www.tranquiltuesdays.com/resource-lib...

Late on a frosty night, breaking cakes of fragrant tea. Brewed to overflowing, the pale yellow froth . from A Song of Drinking Tea on the Departure of Zheng Rong Jiaoran (Tang Dynasty 618-907 AD) translated by Steve Owyang

Things are getting ready to happen out of sight.

Eavan Boland, from In a Time of Violence

@alocasiamag.bsky.social’s Plantcestors: The Indigenous Issue is on our reading list for #NativeAmericanHeritageMonth! Read poems by Shauna Osborn, Rebecca Kinkade-Black, June Beck, Jake Salazar, Jenny L. Davis, and more: alocasia.org/issues/

I slipped my feet into them as though into two cases knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin. —Neruda tr. Robert Bly

Galway Kinnell, excerpt, "The Hen Flower," collected in The Book of Nightmares

We have some exciting news to share with you next month. Stay tuned. 💚🌱

because all my black cats here die and my friend here dies by his own hand that lifts and lifts the glass and the sunlight doesn’t last long here with the land-wind blowing and blowing tender and relentless to the salt abyss —Ursula K. LeGuin (featured on @lithub.com.web.brid.gy)

🎉🦭Congratulations to our 2025 Pushcart nominees!🦑🎉 Follow the link to check out these wonderful poems: www.theshorepoetry.org/shore-things...

@janezwart.bsky.social!

Jacob J Billingsley in ISSUE 27! ✨ www.theshorepoetry.org/jacob-j-bill...

It was already one of my favorites from the issue. Here it is again: “in the city I passed men selling used toys, faces worn by the touching…”

Mubashira Patel in ISSUE 27! ☁️ www.theshorepoetry.org/mubashira-pa...

From “Wait”

"I was all mare, fawn, & galloped stallion setting our fields ablaze, wild with want" —Michal ‘MJ’ Jones beestungmag.com/issue25/two-...

in the right lane standing

I wish I could say we were close—the girl and I, I mean—but I only knew her to wave hello, and walked her, once, halfway up the road before turning finally into my grandmother’s yard. This was Ontario, California. 1983. Which is to say, there was no river. —John Murillo poets.org/poem/dolores...

All my life I’ve padded softly through the kitchen, gently kicking the crumbs off the bottom of my feet, stealing a piece of raspberry coffee cake from the counter. To indulge is to live and I intend to live... Ashley Kirkland in boats against the current boatsagainstthecurrent.org/poetry/gravi...

I will watch / as you blink in and out of recognition. / I will watch your leaves yellow and learn / a new name for you. — Wheeler Light in @tupelopress.bsky.social www.tupeloquarterly.com/poetry/wheel...

phonecall is ready for his first halloween!

from the Academy's poem of the day, smallholding by Brian Teare, dedicated to the bloodroot that will bloom in Shenandoah NP this spring

If this beer was a glass of yellow string, my enthusiasm would go on unending like, oh, Weezer’s dead sweater or a magic-scarf shirt, like tendons not taxed by reverie and rack, full in becoming the inner ear where a squeaky cart could wheel me past you without end. —me, apparently

From Andrea Cohen's book, Everything: bookshop.org/a/862/9781945588686 #poem #booksky #writing

Real honored to be in this phenomenal issue of a consistently excellent magazine. Here’s one of two pieces of mine in the Autumn issue.

“She was a bluff yes, coastal, dropping into the thick of an orca pod, nestled under one seafoam comforter.” From “The Taste of Sweet Pea Leaves” by Ruby Cook in ISSUE 27!

Today’s poem is selected by Zoë Fay-Stindt (@zoefaystindt.bsky.social) as part of the 20th anniversary of Read A Little Poetry. “Children Listen” appeared in Poem-a-Day, by the Academy of American Poets, 2018. Shared here with deep gratitude.

“It is never about what you think it will be. It is never about when you need it most, never about the blue before sunrise uncapturable on camera. The blue in the eye of the beloved. Blue” From “Language at Large” by Eleanore Tisch in ISSUE 27!