The cold is a knife-slice on the skin.
The heart says no, over and over.
This is not what you want.

What you want is that plush crimson
blanket called love: the pulsing
blood-rush that provokes

a minimetamorphosis. An object,
held by a gaze, radiating being.
You would say passion but a demon

has sewn your lips shut. The silver
needle lies there like the melting
sunlit snow beneath your feet.

It looks up as if to ask, Tell me, how
often do you feel the way you feel?
from the journal VIRGINIA QUARTERLY REVIEW
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"The dead of winter," an idiom from the 16th century, came into use from "dead time of," meaning a period when there was little or no sign of life—thus, in the western hemisphere, winter. What follows a loss is a winter, the dead of it. Dickinson understood that: "Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow—."

Mary Jo Bang on "The Dead of Winter"
An image showing a facial expression of reading horror story
"Dorothea Lasky on the Power of Horror"

"Maybe horror itself is a space to heal. Where we can exist in the excised hospital room of our dreams. Maybe if we turn to the art that frightens us still, we can make it all make sense. I've always loved Sylvia Plath's poem 'Tulips.' It's a terrifying poem, and one that gives its own horrible answers. The persona is in a hospital room that somehow presents itself as a healing space, where all of the past—with its ferocious, passionate hurts—can be forgotten."

via LITHUB
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What Sparks Poetry:
Duy Đoàn on Language as Form


"The only fixed form I think I have ever wanted to understand is the pantoum. The fact that it's a Southeast Asian form really appealed to me. From what I know, it's an old Malaysian form. All of the lines are repeated once in a predetermined order. I've seen lots of variations when it comes to the order. The poet decides. These repetitions bring about a unique musical quality, which is one of the big draws of the pantoum. But the thing I like most about the form is its transparency."
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