February 3rd, 2015 | 6:00am

Jonathan Moody is a poet and professor. His first full-length collection, The Doomy Poems, deals with time and place through persona poems, and is described by Terrance Hayes as having an “innovative funkiness that transcends the ruckus and heartache of our modern world.” Moody’s second poetry collection, Olympic Butter Gold, won the 2014 Cave Canem Northwestern University Press Poetry Prize and will be published in summer this year. His poem “Dear 2Pac” appears in Issue 08 of The Common, and his “Portrait of Hermes as a B-Boy,” “Kleosphobia,” and “Paranoid,” have all been featured at The Common Online. Melody Nixon caught up with Moody this winter, and between New Zealand and Texas they talked poetry activism, politics, Houston skyscrapers, and the cosmopolitan radiance of Downtown Pittsburgh.

Photo by Flickr Creative Commons user ClickSnapShot
January 30th, 2015 | 6:00am

Photo by Flickr Creative Commons user ClickSnapShot

At The Common, we’re celebrating the New Year with four poets new to our pages.

Didi Jackson

—“Almost Animal”

—“San Bonaventura”

reviewed by Dara Barnat
January 26th, 2015 | 6:00am

Kerrin McCadden’s poignant debut collection of poetry, Landscape with Plywood Silhouettes, is filled with composed wisdom for how to cope with separation in general, and divorce in particular. The collection won the New Issues Poetry Prize in 2014, and McCadden’s poetry has appeared widely in Best American Poetry 2012, American Poetry Review, Poet Lore, and elsewhere.

January 22nd, 2015 | 9:00am

Name: Renee Simms

Current city: University Place, WA, which is a suburb five minutes outside of Tacoma

How long have you lived here: Since 2011

Three words to describe the climate: wet gray moss

Best time of the year to visit: July through October

James Solomon on his 70th birthday
January 21st, 2015 | 9:00am

James Solomon on his 70th birthday

Nothing could be done about the cancer in him, so we did not bring him bread. He was dying, and doing so more actively now, though still at a pace he commanded. Even Death let him call most of the shots. We brought Sol what he wanted: vodka and cigarettes.

The vodka had to be Smirnoff and the bottle had to be the lighter, plastic fifth. Its narrower profile was easier to grip. Though his hands were large, illness had weakened them.