when I see the shadow of the hawk but not the hawk itself do you know what it feels like Boss a stone a stone set on my chest it weighs me down it's stronger than the horse's strain against the plowlines . . . from "Bucolics [LIX]" by Maurice Manning buff.ly/6PFWKMf

You can get there from here, though there’s no going home. Everywhere you go will be somewhere you’ve never been. Try this: head south on Mississippi 49, one— by—one mile markers ticking off another minute of your life. from "Theories of Time and Space" by Natasha Trethewey buff.ly/gVxVk26

It has taken thirty-five years to be this confident of what happens between the noun and the verb. Eventually, love goes. The image. Then the thought. No? Then you are still alive. Only a little . . . from "The Language of Love" by Rodney Jones buff.ly/f1ndCmZ

Thirty seconds into the barbecue, my Cleveland cousins have everyone speaking Southern—broadened vowels and dropped consonants, whoops and caws. from "Family Reunion" by Rita Dove buff.ly/iARj5l1

After my night job, I sat in class and ate, every thirteen minutes, an orange peanut—butter cracker. Bright grease adorned my notes. At noon I rushed to my day job and pushed a broom enough to keep the boss calm if not happy . . . from "Day Job and Night Job" by Andrew Hudgins buff.ly/jTfjG97

Last century we took a lot of shots Of what we did, framing things for Look and Life So we could see us and our lot Riveting the lattice of a skyline Or walking the I beams of infinite rooms Over Manhattan, Cleveland, Washington— from "Last Century" by Wyatt Prunty buff.ly/SRt7tII

To weep unbidden, to wake at night in order to weep, to wait for the whisker on the face of the clock to twitch again, moving the dumb day forward— is this merely practice? from "Practice" by Ellen Bryant Voigt buff.ly/rhKcKaC

Happy to have some new poems in the latest issue of Action, Spectacle. Three tributes to Greensboro poets past and present. buff.ly/6UH0j33

Thanks for the tree between me & a sniper's bullet. I don't know what made the grass sway seconds before the Viet Cong raised his soundless rifle. Some voice always followed, telling me which foot to put down first. from "Thanks" by Yusef Komunyakaa buff.ly/LeQ9SfE

A drift of wind when August wheeled brought back to mind an alfalfa field where green windrows bleached down to hay while storm clouds rose and rolled our way. from "A Crosstown Breeze" by Henry Taylor buff.ly/iAmsDkH

I often wonder about the others, Where they are bound for on the voyage, What is the reason for their silence, Was there some reason to go away? from "Sestina on Six Words by Weldon Kees" by Donald Justice buff.ly/P0phjtm

As on a crowded Interstate the drivers in boredom or irritation speed ahead or lag (taken with sudden enthusiasms for seventy-five), surging ahead a little by weaving between lanes but still . . . from "Interstate Highway" by James Applewhite buff.ly/lNRvpbO

I’m here, on the dark porch, restyled in my mother’s chair. 10:45 and no moon. Below the house, car lights Swing down, on the canyon floor, to the sea . . . from "Sitting at Night on the Front Porch" by Charles Wright buff.ly/28XT5FN

I would have each couple turn, join and unjoin, be lost in the greater turning of other couples, woven in the circle of a dance, the song of long time flowing over them, so they may return, turn again in to themselves . . . from "The Dance" by Wendell Berry buff.ly/syxOVDH

From plane of light to plane, wings dipping through Geometries and orchids that the sunset builds, Out of the peak’s black angularity of shadow, riding The last tumultuous avalanche of Light above pines and the guttural gorge . . . from "Evening Hawk" by Robert Penn Warren buff.ly/cMb4Ua1

Right under their noses, the green Of the field is paling away Because of something fallen from the sky. They see this, and put down Their long heads deeper in grass That only just escapes reflecting them . . . from "The Dusk of Horses" by James Dickey buff.ly/3p0Itf2

The children race now here by the ivied fence, gather squealing now there by the lily border. The evening calms the quickened air, immense and warm; its veil is pierced with fire. The order of space discloses as pair by pair porch lights . . . from "Fireflies" by Fred Chappell buff.ly/4Ma71E3

This is just a place: we go around, distanced, yearly in a star's atmosphere, turning daily into and out of direct light and slanting through the quadrant seasons . . . From "In Memoriam Mae Noblitt" by A.R. Ammons buff.ly/6Pa5kFF

There was a time I’d stare at the grass in September and not think about the push mower. When work is over, I find his skin. His hips metronome while rinsing plates like it’s joy he’s practicing . . . from "After Striving" by Corrie Lynn White buff.ly/gN2t9io

The first cold rains scurry down the gold tipped September elms. I know she will not be in her bedroom, a room I realize I have hardly entered these last few years, the door so rarely unlocked . . . from "Far Away" by Matt W. Miller buff.ly/7aPjp7t

the city they say is a lonely place until yes the sound of sweeping and a woman yes with a broom beneath which you are now too the canopy of a fig its arms pulling the September sun to it from "To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian" by Ross Gay buff.ly/LOxmr1Y

I am a shrug of a life in sacred language. Right now: termites toil over a grave. My mind is a ravine of yesterdays. from "On Disappearing" by Major Jackson buff.ly/RZiX801

The first September of the pandemic, The sky’s a watercolour, white and grey, And Pembroke Street is empty, and so is Leeson Street. This is the time after time, What the world will look like when the world Is over . . . from "September" by Colm Tóibín buff.ly/F3DRecr

God-Damned Eden, the latest poetry chapbook by UNCG Creative Writing alum James Daniels is now available for pre-order from Bull City Press. buff.ly/bzXQVoe @mfagreensboro.bsky.social

There you exist in water. Unending sketch and erase of waves on the sea surface. Today, you’ll be all the words I wanted to say: look, they’re so pretty in that second they surface. You almost didn’t see them. You didn’t see them. from Nommo in September by Hannah Sanghee Park buff.ly/MvScJ40

I miss the tilt and racket of your face, the collapsing factories of your anger, the shoreline wearing your boas of foam— the steel mirror of your silence, your glass contingencies, in the night’s hold . . . from "September" by. James Armstrong buff.ly/0trHQHA

The grasses are light brown and ocean comes in long shimmering lines under the fleet from last night which dozes now in the early morning from "September" by Joanne Kyger buff.ly/2BU7N9S

Again it is September! It seems so strange that I who made no vows Should sit here desolate this golden weather And wistfully remember— from "Again it is September" by Jessie Redmon Fauset buff.ly/7ZsL3V6

I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives . . . from "September 1, 1939" by W.H. Auden buff.ly/kVILqj1

God-Damned Eden, the latest poetry chapbook by UNCG Creative Writing alum James Daniels is now available for pre-order from Bull City Press. buff.ly/bzXQVoe @mfagreensboro.bsky.social

Join us tonight, Friday, August 22nd, at 6PM at Scuppernong Books for a reading & conversation with UNCG alum Joe Pan, author of Florida Palms. buff.ly/eaFQ6DH @mfagreensboro.bsky.social

Join us tomorrow night, Friday, August 22nd, at 6PM at Scuppernong Books for a reading & conversation with UNCG alum Joe Pan, author of Florida Palms. buff.ly/eaFQ6DH @mfagreensboro.bsky.social

Join us this Friday, August 22nd, at 6PM at Scuppernong Books for a reading & conversation with UNCG alum Joe Pan, author of Florida Palms. buff.ly/eaFQ6DH @mfagreensboro.bsky.social

Don't miss Ross White on the latest episode of "Drunk as a Poet on Payday" White is the author of Charm Offensive and the chapbooks Valley of Want, How We Came Upon the Colony, and The Polite Society, and is teaching faculty at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. buff.ly/Xk4KniB

Everything Else Costs Money: Evan Fackler In Conversation w/ UNCG Creative Writing alum Joe Pan buff.ly/qc9CPK0

To Kill a Mockingbird: a call to compassion that’s more urgent than ever: The 1962 adaptation of Harper Lee’s enduring courtroom drama is a manifesto for tolerance. It’s lost none of its power today buff.ly/etuynfi

Wonderful essay by Ed Southern at Wake Forest Magazine - The Alchemy of Creativity: Everyone creates — but to what end? buff.ly/UA2gcUi

Happy Pub Day to UNCG Creative Writing alum Joe Pan! FLORIDA PALMS, his debut novel, is out today from Simon & Schuster buff.ly/gUjf5Ri @mfagreensboro.bsky.social

Happy Pub Day to UNCG Creative Writing Alum Jen Julien! Red Rabbit Ghost, her debut novel,launches today from Orbit Books buff.ly/J7Gl3Zk #UNCGAlumni #UNCGEnglish #UNCG #UNCGWay #FindYourWayHere @mfagreensboro.bsky.social

You are not here, you are not here in Birmingham, where they keep your name, not in Elmwood's famous plots or the monuments of bronze or steel or the strew of change in the fountain from "Letter Already Broadcast into Space" by Jake Adam York buff.ly/PvnQXlm

Forgive me if I forget with the birdsong and the day’s last glow folding into the hands of the trees, forgive me the few syllables of the autumn crickets, the year’s last firefly winking like a penny in the shoulder’s weeds. from "Abide" by Jake Adam York buff.ly/bJtldoM

The North Carolina Writers’ Network is seeking a full-time Membership Director to help with all aspects of its operations. This person will work an average of 40 hours a week. The Membership Director will report directly to the Executive Director. buff.ly/6pHeoUL

We are first to cover our hearts with our hands, sing “My Country, ’Tis of Thee,” and wear la Americana flag shorts. from "Becoming American" by Dorsía Smith Silva buff.ly/zhjXcQy

With a feeling of shame, we drove west from Georgia to the end of America, holing up with the ex-lover of John Wesley’s mother, a frayed Victorian on Puget Sound. The mold in the house made it hard to breathe or sleep. from "Prime" by Claire Miliken buff.ly/mxoeEAo

I followed here the heart I built for you. Here it is, blue as the preening peacock’s crest, bruise renewed again and again. Blue as children made vapor, families ground to grist raining on the accordion chest of the sea. from "American Abyss" by Cynthia Dewi Oka buff.ly/lRPXn6o

Allegiance to the flag is a start. A promise. Begin there, says the teacher. Come, and we’ll climb the Hill at sunup, Daring, not disruptive. from "Anthem for America" by Varsha Saraiya-Shah buff.ly/DW9t1VS

One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores, peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies. from "One Today" by Richard Blanco buff.ly/RC1RUo6

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their hastening doom from "On the Pulse of Morning" by Maya Angelou buff.ly/NApVwu7

I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. from "I, Too" by Langston Hughes buff.ly/6hdf9aH

This is not a small voice you hear this is a large voice coming out of these cities. This is the voice of LaTanya. Kadesha. Shaniqua. This is the voice of Antoine. Darryl. Shaquille. from "This Is Not a Small Voice" by Sonia Sanchez buff.ly/RC3M1CM