Granta | The Magazine of New Writing

Explore poetry

Filter

If You Were a Bluebird

Juliana Spahr

‘So the dolphins talks, talks, over thirty distinguishable sounds.’

How to Get Over Someone You Love

Adam Fitzgerald

‘Would you like to come with me for some / old-fashioned inconclusive combat?’

Two Poems

Jack Underwood

‘We are nearing the conclusion of this anatomy. / We are strung between the point of ending, and / the point of having started.’

From The Abstract Humanities

Sandra Simonds

‘let us / build the openwork fabric of our garden / on the fear in the body’

Sanjay Nagar Blues

Anjum Hasan

‘motorcyclists like to howl / and dogs drop bulging bags of garbage / from their mouths when they see other dogs / they want to mount’

Citizen

Claudia Rankine

‘Certain moments send adrenaline to the heart, dry out the tongue’

Position Paper

John Ashbery

‘This is my outfit. / Government spooks did the rest. Didn’t you know?’

The Self-Illuminated

Don Paterson

‘One, perhaps his psalter, / the other, a manuscript, or a portable altar.’

from Long Talking Bad Conditions Blues

Ronald Sukenick

‘She was visibly ageing you could tell / that soon it was going to be a long / desperate race between cellulite and silicone’.

The Easel

Sharon Olds

‘When I build a fire, I feel purposeful.’

Origin Myth

Mary Ruefle

‘Life continually circled in cold inaccessible serenity around unhappy Earth’

Two Poems

Sean Borodale

‘To be honest, this is dark stuff; mud, tang / of bitter battery-tasting honey. The woods are in it.’

High Table

Craig Raine

‘The inescapable smoke of her gown’

Three Poems

Katha Pollitt

‘Nobody wanted to hear / about the rain or its father / or leviathan slicing the deeps / at the black edge of the world / under the cold blue light of the Pleiades.’

Release the Darkness to New Lichen

Peter Gizzi

‘otherwise it is all otherwise I’m lost, did I say that’

1964

Robin Robertson

Under the gritted lid of winter, each ice-puddle’s broken plate cracked to a star. The...

Cofiwch Dryweryn

Jamie McKendrick

‘Remember Tryweryn’ – graffiti near Aberystwyth Soft water from Tryweryn reservoir was at our fingertips...

Artichoke

Angélica Freitas

‘amelia, the real woman, / ran away with the bearded lady’

It was discovered that gut bacteria were responsible

Kathryn Maris

‘Each bacterium was entitled to pay / a fee in the form of mitochondrial energy to purchase / a ‘dream token’ to be dropped into a Potential Well.’

Observations on the Ground

Mary Ruefle

‘Those flowers belong to the dead.’

The Afterlife of Trees and Their Lovers

Sumana Roy

‘It is difficult to imagine a history of trees / without man in it. Man as tree, Tree as tale.’

Two Poems

Tomaž Šalamun

‘Heads of saints fell off and / smashed the glassy cages. My voice smashed them.’

Model Reconstruction of Ancient Rome

Sandra Simonds

‘Here I am. Sephora, symbol of stolen work.’

The Swing

Don Paterson

‘the honest fulcrum of the hour / that engineers our ghost’

Two Poems

Eric Anderson

‘Wanting to get it all in, like / Xerxes tipping his army’s arrows / with saltpeter / so to ignite the Grecian sky.’

End of the Pier Show

Michael Hofmann

‘They were fascinated / by what they seemed to have contained.’

Handkerchief

Ghassan Zaqtan

‘Nothing’s left to say between us / everything went / into the train that hid its whistle.’

Hang It Up

Anne Carson

‘hang up your blood cell phone mr white slaver’

Après

Jamie McKendrick

‘greener / for an alien crop of hogweed higher / than us’

The Woman in the Moon

Carol Ann Duffy

‘Darlings, I write to you from the moon’

Abingdon Square Park

Rowan Ricardo Phillips

‘I once had had a thought / About a thought I once had had.’

The Wife

David Katz

‘Ever notice the change that comes over / your gentle wife the minute she sets / foot in a grocery store?’

Two Poems

Paula Bohince

‘What sparrows come, / come briefly, briefly displacing / the nothingness.’

Fortunate It Is If Her Skirts Do Not Catch Fire

Amy Gerstler

‘I must remember god is not my private / secretary.’

Cyan

Paul Farley

‘I’m holding out. / I’m blue in the face.’

The Joy of Difficulty

Lavinia Greenlaw

‘did you breathe differently / as if equipped with an aqualung’