Experiments in Revision, Part 4

Lisa McCool-Grime Senior Poetry Editor Synthesis: This is not so much an act of combining as it is an act of harmonizing. Which parts of the previous drafts have shown themselves to be extraneous and unnecessary? Which parts augment and…

The Cantos

I hear Ezra Pound croaked without making a sound. No last rasp as his crooked legs crashed. I hear your aunt passed. I apologize. “I am nothing but bereft for her.” This is a chant & I realize 89% of…

Experiments in Revision, Part 3

Lisa McCool-Grime Senior Poetry Editor In this series we have thus far presented a long, action-loaded rough draft and then a total scrap-and-revise, tanka-inspired revision. This week’s installment is a list poem—a sister-shadow poem heavy with nouns; a counterpoint to…

robinhooding

Why I’ve got today This niggling feeling Like I’m The Principled Nazi Lieutenant With a Conscience defending A downed RAF pilot Of pure shamrock Irish stare (And this for fookin’ nuthin’: He’ll die, of course he will, shot In the…

Typewriter

Poetry by Whitnee Thorp

On Sundays we’d go over,
my grandmother and I, to see her ex-husband,
my grandfather, at his apartment a block away from ours.
On Sundays, the typewriter
would be in the same spot, at the head of the table,
covering a yellow smoke stained place mat.
He’d set a papyrus-thin white paper
through its clicking rounded black tongue x