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Articles by Fred D'Aguiar
PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Readers are asked to send a note of any misprints or mistakes that they spot in this poem to editor@pnreview.co.uk Martial Art Plants two bare feet Three-feet apart Knees slightly bent One hand held away From the body seems About to pick fruit Chest high the way The fingers spread Curl and linger The other hand Waits its turn Tucked at the waist The head faces That fruit tree But the eyes Widen to swallow All they can take in Blind spots as well If you watched The hand about To pick fruit You...
Vulture Gastronomy
Let us say we go off our food for a while, Only able to stomach water with berries. What then? What becomes of the craven miles Of roadways and fallen creatures in our path? We watch bodies, warred over by flies, That marinate air for miles around, Cook in the sun’s trembling flame, Worms loop tunnels through them. We pare our talons against the trunks Of trees and keep our beaks sharp By tearing off husk and bark And marvel at our bloodless shirtfronts.
May 2017 | Poetry Magazine | Poetry Foundation
Alexander Stewart, "Silverlake Ribbon 3," 2016 The oldest monthly devoted to verse in the English-speaking world. From this Issue poem By Sandra Simonds When you think about it, mostly, a cage is air — so what is there to be afraid of? A cage of air. Baudelaire said Poe thought America was one giant cage. To the poet, a nation is one big cage? And isn’t the nation mostly filled... poem By Fred D'Aguiar “Ah neva seen this before in all ma years.” Testify, Sis.
Letters to America (An Abecedary) by Fred D'Aguiar
“Ah neva seen this before in all ma years.” Testify, Sis. How we grew accustomed, Spoiled almost, by decorum, now try Mosquito larvae cultivating at speed In standing bodies of water. Pigeons Flock rooftops, twist, launch, shout As one, spin sky, turn skulls porous. Car repair shop drills sing industry. Tires feel out parking, meters freed. First horn blare triggers this chorus. Step up pistons, fire motor mouths, Say our only worry is our worst fears Come true.
Coast-coast gun deaths
I got to my office at Virginia Tech on April 16, 2007, and set about my day prepping for class, commenting on student papers and answering emails. I took a call from home that said there was a news flash about gunshots on the campus. Then a colleague knocked on my door and said something big was happening a few buildings away. I began to hear sirens, endless sirens. Everyone was told to stay in locked offices.
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