Plume Issue #170 October 2025

Alexis Rhone Fancher, “Joshua Tree On The Way To Dorothy’s House, Mojave Desert, 2025”

  • Elegy

    The floor is littered with clothes I once wore
  • Briccetti, Clara Burghelea, Stephen Bluestone, et. al.

    “To Stabilize, It’s Buttercups” began quite literally as a walk in the park near my New York City apartment building.
    The Poets and Translators Speak
  • What if the Invader is Beautiful: Mystic in the Mojave, Louise Mathias in Conversation with Nancy Mitchell

    I don’t think I’ve read a book of poems in the past year as intriguing as your stunning new WHAT IF THE INVADER IS BEAUTIFUL.
    Featured Selection
  • Mackenzie Kozak “No swaddle” Reviewed by Celeste Lipkes

    An identity defined by lack is only interesting if everyone presumes its opposite is essential.
    Book Review
  • “Dispatches from Terra Incognita 4 & 5” by Peter Johnson

    Once upon a time . . . Jonas lived with a woman in Newport during an era known for a surplus of mock-heroic moments.
    Essays and Comment
  • “The Walnut and Honey Cookies” translated from Romanian by Clara Burghelea

    I am a Kurdish refugee who, for over a decade,
  • Three Poems

    You suckered me, Legs—
  • Two Poems translated by Ryan Bruno

    This is the moles' heaven.
  • Two Poems

    I thought I bought more soap
  • I Spent one Summer with a Semi-colon

    in those days people called it shacking up
  • Molly Twomey’s “Chic To Be Sad” reviewed by Heather Treseler

    For me, as a child of the ‘80s and teen of the ‘90s, it often felt as though occupying a female body was the equivalent of wearing a grenade.
    Book Review
  • World on a String, 2012

    Thunder, and my cats, pure products of America,
  • I prefer synthetic grass

    no roots no worm
  • Two Golden Shovels Tada Chimako and Issa

    What more about summer
  • Two poems translated from Spanish by Charlotte Stretch

    Pasamos delante de las ruinas
  • Open Book: 100 Secrets

    1. I was self-conscious that I looked like crap in the hospital as I sucked on ice chips sans lipstick.
  • Three Poems

    A neighbor called me about the neighbors in the blue house between us.
  • To Stabilize, It’s Buttercups

    & the plucky boy, who
  • The Trolley

    It was stuck and what with rationing and brownouts