• collection

    Poems to read as the leaves change and the weather gets colder.

Editors' Picks

From the current issue of Poetry

From this issue September 2017
  • poem
    By Javier Zamora

    Yes, your face like asphalt dust on my tongue

  • poem
    By Dorothea Lasky

    I saw him

  • poem
    By Alison C. Rollins

    After a Nick Cave “Soundsuit” made from buttons and found vintage

Podcasts
From VSSeptember 2017

Erka L. Sánchez stops by the show around the release of not one, but two new books–her poetry collection Lessons on Expulsion and her Young Adult novel I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter. She talks finding her rituals, teenage Erika, and more.

  • From The Poetry Magazine PodcastSeptember 2017

    The editors discuss Linda Bierds's poem “The Underwings of War,” published in the September 2017 issue of Poetry.

  • From PoetryNowSeptember 2017

    Ocean Vuong remembers Tamir Rice, the 12-year old boy killed by police in Cleveland, OH in 2014. Produced by Sara Murphy.

  • From Poem TalkSeptember 2017

    Hosted by Al Filreis and featuring Rachel Blau DuPlessis, Ariel Resnikoff, and Stephen Ross.

  • From Poetry Off the ShelfSeptember 2017

    Ashbery's poems can be a new way of seeing and experiencing things, a "daydream from which there's no obvious exit," an ode to neglected...

Featured Collection

Poems from and about the American involvement in Vietnam.

Featured Biographies
  • author

    Natalie Diaz was born in the Fort Mojave Indian Village in Needles, California. She is Mojave and an enrolled member of the...

  • author

    Born in 1952 in Santa Fe of Chicano and Apache descent, Jimmy Santiago Baca was abandoned by his parents and at 13...

From the Poetry Magazine Archive
    • poem

      Appeared in Poetry Magazine Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror

      By John Ashbery

    • poem

      Appeared in Poetry Magazine The Pearl-Miners

      By Muriel Spark

    • poem

      Appeared in Poetry Magazine The Gulf, 1987

      By Deborah Paredez
      The day upturned, flooded with sunlight, not
      a single cloud. I squint into the glare,
      cautious even then of bright emptiness.
      We sit under shade, Tía Lucia
      showing me how white folks dine, the high life.
      I am about to try my first oyster,
      Tía spending...

Featured Poems

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