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Plume Issue #153 May 2024

Eclipse with Colanders  Nancy Mitchell, April, 2024

  • Work from Leonor Scliar-Cabral, Rosa Alice Branco and Luís Miguel Nava translated by Alexis Levitin

    With arms uplifted towards the sky they pray,
    Translations Portfolio

  • Two Poems translated from the Persian by Sholeh Wolpé

    I’ve heard the volley of a thousand soldiers,

  • Culver, Berdeshevsky, Cader, et. al.

    Ralph Culver on “October, and the sun burnishes”:   More than anything else, “October, and the sun burnishes” is a…

    Plume Issue #153 May 2024

  • Villanelles and the Art of Anguish by Maggie Dietz

    J’ay perdu ma tourterelle; I lost my turtledove; I have lost my turtledove: Est-ce-point elle que j’oy? Is it not she that I hear? Isn’t that her gentle coo?  J
    Plume Issue #153 May 2024

  • Gott im Himmel and The Corner of Bellington Street and Sparta

    Gott was thicket, thorned, glottal,

  • Meandering, Ebbing and Flowing with Slow Water: Stephan Crump and Nancy Mitchell

        Meandering, Ebbing and Flowing with Slow Water Stephan Crump and Nancy Mitchell     Acclaimed composer and bassist…

    Special Feature

  • Penelope Pelizzon’s A Gaze Hound that Hunteth by the Eye reviewed by Jane Zwart

    Were I not smitten, ahead of time, with V. Penelope Pelizzon’s poems, I might have passed over her newest collection
    Plume Issue #153 May 2024

  • Three Poems translated from Argentinian Spanish by Lorena Wolfman

    Entering the house from the back without letting anyone know,

  • Kintsugi and We Did Not Murder One Another

    t will be spring  sometime, when the autumn dies, when the thaw melts.

  • Remnant Tongue

    I woke wounded

  • “October, and the sun burnishes”

    October, and the sun burnishes the leaves so brightly you

  • Three Poems

    Heat, filthy, gut-sick heat in my city’s cobblestone streets.

  • [There was the way his mother]

    There was the way his mother called him baby-faced that made me defensive.

  • Puritan Watc, Yonder and Birthday

    Longitude was the great mystery

  • In Waterplace Park on Our 15th Anniversary

    I’m waiting for you on the bank of the river,

  • How the West Was Won and Crack in the World

    Build a garage on the roof

  • The Last Photograph

    a golden shovel on the opening line of Gwendolyn Brooks’ “To Prisoners”

  • Almost and Caught Out

    Cows and sheep segregate themselves

  • The Other by Sally Bliumis-Dunn

    The poems in this feature look at how a certain distance or feeling of seeming “otherness” between the speaker and her/his/their subject creates a kind of unexpected intimacy, insight, understanding.
    Plume Issue #153 May 2024