Poetry

Of Diverting and Diversions 

Of Diverting and Diversions 

October 26, 2026 , ,

By BENJAMIN PALOFF

  We said a prayer for the rats and fleas as the plague abated. We laid a wreath for Justinian. The streets of London were no longer smoke-choked, just smoking, and Rome started to smell more like Rome. At least whoever remembered “before” said as much. In the last days of the plague, the days that followed the days that had been called “last,” we made a sport of showing up at restaurants where we had never been beautiful enough to get a table, just to see if people still ate at tables, or if the food tasted like anything. We appeared at the homes of our favorite people to see if they were around, too, or if they had changed, or if they could be unchanged. We moved slowly through the halls of near-empty museums, each of us indistinguishable from the art, to be touched only with the eyes from a safe Kantian distance. As the plague’s grip on our lives slackened, we slackened too, like a body pretending it can will itself back into sleep. We prepared for travel, arranged our documents, scheduled shots. We packed—clothes, books—and packed—the spider plant with all its apostles, anything that might spoil in our absence—and kept on packing. It didn’t matter that we had no idea where we were going. This time we would be more careful to leave none of ourselves behind.   
Of Diverting and Diversions 
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A Monad 

A Monad 

October 26, 2026 , ,

By DAN BEACHY-QUICK 

So simple is the soul  
a house finch can haunt its innermost 
ever, not for an hour, not for an era, but a  
different kind of forever, as in, as in,  
as in the dream of an infinite lever, & a lamb 
lifts up a mountain by stepping on the end  
of an endless branch propped beneath  
the stone—. That dream—. Of the long ago 
then, a sort of once-upon-a- 
time, when the pear sang out the finch’s tune 
& desire began again its how-to- 
see, how-to-hear, mystery burden so hard 
to bear—. Then God was a word 
for the perfection that no one could name—. 

A Monad 
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September 2026 Poetry Feature

September 2026 Poetry Feature

September 24, 2026

This month, we’re pleased to bring you poems by BRIONNE JANAE, GRAY DAVIDSON CARROLL, and WILBERT TURNER III.

Table of Contents

  • Brionne Janae, “You Got to Walk That Lonesome Valley”
  • Gray Davidson Carroll, “Aubade, or Ars Poetica as Men”
  • Wilbert Turner III, “Desperado Despair”

 

Author photos of Brionne Janae, Gray Davidson Carroll, and Wilbert Turner III

From left to right: Brionne Janae, Gray Davidson Carroll, and Wilbert Turner III.

 

YOU GOT TO WALK THAT LONESOME VALLEY
By Brionne Janae
                        ~ after Mississippi John Hurt

            and how did you go through it?
            and did you keep? did you keep your mind?

you got to walk it for yourself

            and on returning what state did you find it in?
            as in what state were you in?
            were you where you left yourself?
            and who was left?
            was anyone left?
            and how sure were you that you could reach them?

September 2026 Poetry Feature
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August Poetry Feature

August Poetry Feature

August 27, 2026

New poems from MARCUS WICKER and ELLEN HINSEY

Table of Contents:

  • Selections from Dear Mothership by Marcus Wicker
  • Selections from Anatomy of the Eclipse by Ellen Hinsey

 

Cover of Dear Mothership

What if an alien landed in Atlanta in January 2020 and tried to document everything it saw for two years? Not just the big stuff like the pandemic, the protests, the Capitol riot, but also the unfiltered everyday occurrences: binge-watching reality t.v. and some retail therapy, a young girl quieting her wailing sister in the middle of an airport Popeye’s with a kiss to her invisibly injured elbow. That’s the premise of Dear Mothership, the new poetry collection from Marcus Wicker (Ecco, September 8). Part Afrofuturist odyssey, part cultural chronicle, the collection weaves the ATLien emissary’s observations together as it examines what is alien in our world, alongside poems that chart upheavals both personal and political.

August Poetry Feature
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Self-Portrait in The Caribbean

Self-Portrait in The Caribbean

July 9, 2026 ,

By PAOLA ASSAD BARBARINO
Translated by MAGDALENA ARIAS VÁSQUEZ

Poems appear below in English and the original Spanish.

Translator’s Note:
Paola’s poetry, which I have been translating for a while now, is fundamentally Venezuelan and has to be understood in that context. The challenge for me is to render this context as best as I can from my position as an outsider. “Autorretrato en el caribe” or “Self-Portrait in the Caribbean” was a particularly challenging poem to translate keeping this in mind. It’s also one of my favorites of hers. It relies heavily on Venezuelan history and an understanding of their political context. The most prevalent example of this is the quotation, “¡Entonces yo tampoco quiero mando!” which is a historical allusion to Capitán Emparán, who, in the face of the Spanish crown’s decaying power in Venezuela, famously used the words to renounce his position in government, granting Venezuela independence from Spain. It directly translates to “Then I too do not want to be led” or “Then I too do not want to lead.” The double sense of the phrase in Spanish is particularly interesting in the context of the poem. I chose to keep it in Spanish to keep this double meaning, and also to assert the phrase’s origin as Venezuelan, whose context may not be readily available to an Anglophone reader. The final stanza of the poem is one of my favorite lines that Paola has ever written. Speaking from the position of someone living through exile, Paola’s poetry is politically and personally charged and speaks to the complicated space she inhabits.

Self-Portrait in The Caribbean
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