Sarah Katz

after Charles Simic
Great was the apartment.
The goat that roamed its rooms,
dreamed in a bed of hay.
The voices steeped in borscht,
the voices that don't return.
Spilled pillars of spice.

I am the first child here.
Seventy years have passed.
The forests' arms still break my eyes.
I still run with crooked fingers.
I still want answers.
A book of Pushkin
to wear like a hat.

Poland, scatter your music.
I have no fingers. You'll
have to whisper it into my ears.
My ears are dead.
You'll have to carve it into me
one number at a time.
from the book COUNTRY OF GLASS / Gallaudet University Press
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Color image of the cover of Richie Hofmann's book, A Hundred Lovers
"Short Conversations with Poets: Richie Hofmann"

"In A Hundred Lovers, I was interested in creating something like Cavafy in the present tense. I love in his work the sense that, even in the moment of encounter, it is all being stored away, preserved, its fragments filled in as by a conservator. The sensuousness must be saved against the fear of loss, of vanishing entirely, the erotic always intermingling with elegy."

via MCSWEENEY'S
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Cover image of James Longenbach's book, Forever
What Sparks Poetry:
Donald Revell on James Longenbach's Forever

"To read the poems gathered as Forever is to walk beside Jim Longenbach along the banks of Lethe. We know the place, having been here before, with Dante in the most beautiful cantos of  his Purgatorio. We remember its perils—the perils of oblivion and forgetfulness. And we remember its allures—the garden on the farther shore and a reunion there with the unforgettable. But something has changed. Somehow, Longenbach has prepared an estate for us along the water’s edge."
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