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Plume Issue #157 September 2024

Henri Matisse, Portrait with Pink and Blue Face

  • Three poems by Nadia Mifsud translated from Maltese by Miriam Calleja

    abracadabresque this silence spreading sorrow

  • Judy Katz’s How News Travels: Sally Bliumis-Dunn and Jessica Greenbaum Add Up its Wonders

    There was much excitement in our poetry community when Judy Katz’s stellar book HOW NEWS TRAVELS won the Gerald Cable Award in 2021.
    Plume Issue #157 September 2024

  • THE SEXY SENTENCE by Neil Shepard

    Over the years, as I’ve tried to talk to poetry students about sentence structure and punctuation – syntax and mechanics
    Plume Issue #157 September 2024

  • John Yau’s “Tell It Slant” reviewed by Timothy Liu

    When someone asks, “What are you reading these days?” I often want to respond, “That’s none of your business!”
    Plume Issue #157 September 2024

  • Smith, Bathanti, Hartman, et. al.

    Ron Smith on “Brasserie” and “An Annunciation of Blue”: I think “Brasserie” is about friendship, about the heart-breaking fragility of…

    Plume Issue #157 September 2024

  • Brasserie and An Annunciation of Blue

    We’re somehow in Closerie des Lilas,

  • Translation

    Food is a door you have to open

  • Three Poems

    His Majesty’s flock of Spanish sheep at Kew is most grievously afflicted...

  • Four Poems

    One was dicing an onion,

  • Sicily, 1992

    Etna’s lava shone against the gloom,

  • Three poems by Li Suo translated from Chinese by Lucas Klein and Henry Zhang

    the cemetery east of river bank road

  • Phone Call: Lesson in Style and The Story of Civilization

    “Everything feels all swollen and puffy, like my brain

  • Ohio

    I will remember you in a Golden Corral after church on a Sunday.

  • Liebfraumilch, Scale and Season

    Our new son, fallen asleep

  • Ubi Sunt

    In the bottom left corner of Pennsylvania,

  • Arcs and Oedipus Ux

    No shame in appreciating

  • At the Kitchen Sink and While the Cows Stood Still

    I stand over the sink

  • Tom’s Sublet and Without Longing, What?

    Once, a long time ago in Rome, I was bathed