Category / Issue #59 June 2016

Featured Selection: Ira Sadoff

By way of introduction to this month’s Featured Selection of new poems by Ira Sadoff is an extensive interview with our own Associate Editor for Special Projects, the estimable Nancy Mitchell, followed by the work itself and some more detailed

Editor’s Note

Readers: Welcome to Plume Issue # 59 –   June: a most welcome intercession for many of us teachers, when we slip if only between pillar and post from one academic term to another — or for the more fortunate,

From the grab bag of desire

I keep meaning to walk up to you, stranger, and tape my head to yours to make a more powerful magnet, or pick you up and carry you sixteen inches to give you rest, or take your skirt and put


At the soiree, a hot ticket zooms off with a hot potato into the toy Evening composed of toy conversations. A hot tamale chitchats With a cold shoulder till he turns into a buzz kill. Some hot shit, After a

WHO did the blue school

  who bruised the wound who had the goddess of love in her lap to make herself happy—make a village of love for your shadow to live in so that your shadow and your shadow’s friends may be unlonely living

Two Poems

Stanley Cavell Pauses on the Aventine   At the side of the slope where all those waves of Romans neglected to put much else, a lane goes down to the Tiber between two sweating walls, streetlamps, views of the city’s

Tranquility & Tremolo

Where song is, fire begins, tightens, then leaps to scream with such ease that every awkward thing is quickly consumed.   We are upended by the creaks and turns of language, and the truth is not uplifting, though the mod


They walk in and out of the room, the dead, though I don’t know why one of them visits the bathroom. He fiddles around in there, doing what–and way too long. Maybe he likes replaying the movie of some younger


1 This was the woman who remembered her childhood. This was the woman with a girl’s voice. This was the woman who recoiled from cameras. This was the beauty who hated her pictures. This was the woman who loved dining

Two Poems

Potato   I do not want to finish my potato, but feel guilty not to finish my potato.   Many died for lack of potatoes, but I don’t want it, that potato   mushed on my plate, unsalted and dry.

Two Poems

Possibility of Erasure It is snowing this morning. There are dry leaves on the ground slowly turning white with the dry falling dust. There is no sound, only distance—the world is being erased like the gloomy memory of a neighbor’s

Me & Whiskey

Collided hard        Into the back of 1989— Reaching up just to grab bottom.   Somebody called for an ambulance. It turned around & ran the other way,   A metaphor in the making. You can call me


I look back through the window of a Greyhound Bus stopped by the side of the road. Before the cell phone or CB radio— I travel back to the boy and girl wrought golden in this-moment-before-we-grow-old. His earth brown eyes

Three Paris Poems

[Note: These poems are from poets who will be reading for Plume, 30 May, at Shakespeare & Co., in Paris. Joining them will be Emmanuel Moses and Marilyn Hacker.]   FOLDED WING   Margo Berdeshevsky   “My mother told me

Two Reviews: DeWeese & Ma…

In this month’s installment, reviews editor Adam Tavel examines two experimental books that engage ecological and political concerns.             The Father of the Arrow Is the Thought by Christopher DeWeese Octopus Books $14.95, 75 pages