“Ghazal Cosmopolitan” by Shadab Zeest Hashmi (poetry, ’09)

An essay by Shadab Zeest Hashmi (poetry, ’09)  appears in World Literature Today:

 

Ghazal Cosmopolitan

by Shadab Zeest Hashmi

 

Poetry is of course a universal art, but is it possible for a particular poetic form to be not only universally (or largely) adaptable but also act as a vessel for the mercurial shifts that define the cosmopolitan? As I delve into the history of the ghazal form, I find that it has effectively transcended and transferred the culture of its origins and made itself at home in vastly different cultures and times.

Two recent scenes come to mind as I think of the ghazal and the poetic cosmopolitan:

Latin Quarter, Paris: Marilyn Hacker weaving in and out of Arabic, French, and English at a Lebanese restaurant in the heart of medieval Paris, before she and I walked through the backstreets, through the doors of the somber Saint-Séverin Saint-Nicolas church where she lit a candle, to Berkeley Bookstore where she recited her ghazal dedicated to a Pakistani and an Afghan woman. [. . . continue reading here.]

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“A New New Guide” by Lara Egger (poetry, ’16)

A poem by Lara Egger (poetry, ’16) appears in May Day Magazine:

A New New Guide

1.

Look at this orange. When Rothko
painted No. 12, 1954 was he thinking
of a setting sun, or a piece of fruit?
In every language I know,
the word for both is the same.
In ancient Greek, there is no blue,
so Homer said wine-dark,
and honey was green; even the sky

. . . continue reading here.

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“Now Blown Apart Hit Record” by Matt Hart (poetry, ’02)

NOW BLOWN APART HIT RECORD

 

I look through the living room

window and gush      Or

I look through the blotchy

black canopies of trees

I wonder if I have anything

to say about an apple

 

. . . continue reading here.

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“Summer Day” by Daye Phillippo (poetry, ’14)

A poem from Daye Phillippo (poetry, ’14) appears in Literary Mama:

Summer Day

or John

When he refused to be born, when he stayed
curled and warm and huge inside, they
sent me from the hospital, said Go home and rest,
but I weeded the parched garden instead.
After a time, the boy’s father stepped outside,
suggested I might come in out of July’s brass
heat for a glass of water, at least, but I glared

. . . continue reading here.

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Six Poems by Shadab Zeest Hashimi (poetry, ’09)

A sequence of six poems by Shadab Zeest Hashmi (poetry, ‘ 09) appears in World Literature Today:

 

Qasida of the Bridge of Teacups
The soul cleaves into two somewhere along the birth canal,
didn’t you say, Plato? I send your echo back to Athens
from my rug of locked antlers in Peshawar
where I fill a teacup with the question of half my soul
(as I watercolor a whitewashed village I’ve yet to see). In
the torpor of the mango season, I am closer to the heady basil
that fishermen of the Black Sea put in their boats for luck –
Will I know my soul by the musk of tannin ink, sugarcane

. . . Continue reading this poem, and five others, here.

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“A Love Story” by Samantha Hunt (fiction, ’99)

A story by Samantha Hunt (fiction, 99) appears in The New Yorker:

A LOVE STORY

by Samantha Hunt

 

“A coyote ate a three-year-old not far from here.”

“Yeah?”

 “My uncle told me.”

“Huh.”

“He said, ‘Don’t leave those babies outside again,’ as if I already had.”

“Had you?”

“Come on.” An answer less precise than no.

“Why’s he monitoring coyote activity up here?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“It’s irresistible.”

“Really?”

A wild dog with a tender baby in its jaws disappearing into the redwoods forever. My uncle’s so good at imagining things, he makes them real. “Yeah. It’s just what he does, a habit.” Or a compulsion.

“I don’t get it.”

But I do. Every real thing started life as an idea. I’ve imagined objects and moments into existence. I’ve made humans. I tip taxi-drivers ten, twenty dollars every time they don’t rape me.

*

The last time my husband and I had sex was eight months ago, and it doesn’t count because at the time my boobs were so huge from nursing that their power over him, over all men, really, was supreme. Now, instead of sex with my husband, I spend my nights imagining dangerous scenarios involving our children. It’s less fun.

[. . .  to continue and to hear audio of the story, click here.]

 

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“The Blues In My Heart, The Rhythm In My Soul” by Cammy Thomas (poetry, ’99)

A poem by Cammy Thomas (poetry, ’99) appears in The Missouri Review:

 

The Blues in My Heart, the Rhythm in My Soul

—for SMM

She asked for my Elmore James album—
the only time she asked me for anything
in the eight years she cooked
and cleaned and washed our hair,
picked us up from school
and helped us bathe and choose our clothes.

. . . for the poet’s contextual note, and the rest of the poem, continue reading here.

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“After the Removal of 30 Types of Plants and Animals From The Junior Dictionary” by Rose McLarney (poetry, ’10)

A poem by Rose McLarney (poetry, ’10) appears in Kenyon Review:

 

AFTER THE REMOVAL OF 30 TYPES OF PLANTS AND ANIMALS FROM THE JUNIOR DICTIONARY

Almond no more. Blackberry blanked out. Cheetah cast off.
But if no acorn, because the young will use language for nature less,

by that logic, no arousal, brief surge of blood that cannot continue
but lets lives be conceived. If no bluebell because flowers are fleeting,

 

. . . continue reading here.

. . . read more from Rose McLarney and Kenyon Review by clicking here.

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An Interview with Monica Youn

An interview with Monica Youn appears in DiveDapper:

 

“All our pleasures seem kind of suspect these days”

Monica Youn

Interviewed by Kaveh Akbar

I just read something the other day that said for the past month the record highs across America have been a ratio of 116 record highs for every record low.

Yeah, I’ve been watching the trees bud and the daffodils pop up knowing it’s all going to hard freeze again next week. My upstate district is mostly farm country. Years like this, the farmers take a beating. Not to mention the global ominousness. So, I’ve kind of been side-eying people who keep saying, “Enjoy the gorgeous weather!”

… continue reading here.

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“If, Then” by Kimberly Kruge (poetry, ’15)

A poem by Kimberly Kruge (poetry, ’15) appears in the Spring 2017 issue of Ploughshares:

Read Kimberly’s poem here:  If, Then

Order a copy here.

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