Spring
By Louise Imogen Guiney

With a difference —Hamlet.

Again the bloom, the northward flight,
The fount freed at its silver height,
And down the deep woods to the lowest,
The fragrant shadows scarred with light.

O inescapable joy of spring!
For thee the world shall leap and sing;
But by her darkened door thou goest
Forever as a spectral thing.

About the Poem

Louise Imogen Guiney’s poem “Spring” is a lyrical meditation on the renewal and beauty of nature as the season changes. Guiney, a late 19th and early 20th-century poet, was known for her refined, often pastoral poetry that blended classical influences with a keen appreciation for the natural world. The poem captures the essence of spring as a time of rebirth, hope, and rejuvenation. It highlights the transition from winter’s barrenness to the lush vibrancy of spring, reflecting nature’s cyclical pattern.  

Guiney employs rich and delicate imagery, describing blossoming flowers, fresh greenery, and the return of birdsong. She uses sensory details to create a vivid picture of the changing landscape, engaging the reader’s sight, smell, and hearing. The tone is celebratory and reverent, appreciating nature’s beauty and its connection to the human spirit. There is a sense of awe in how nature renews itself effortlessly, contrasting with human struggles. 

Guiney’s style often incorporates classical references, and “Spring” may allude to mythology or poetic traditions that celebrate the season’s return. She employs a lyrical structure reminiscent of Romantic and Victorian poetry. Beyond a simple depiction of nature, the poem may suggest deeper themes of hope, resurrection, and the passage of time. Spring symbolizes a fresh start, not just for nature but metaphorically for the human soul.  

Guiney’s “Spring” exemplifies her ability to blend refined, classical poetics with an intimate, heartfelt appreciation for nature’s beauty. The poem resonates with the universal joy of witnessing the world awaken after winter’s dormancy.

About the Poet

Louise Imogen Guiney (1861–1920) was an American poet, essayist, and critic known for her lyrical and refined verse, often inspired by classical and religious themes. Born in Roxbury, Massachusetts, she was the daughter of an Irish-American Civil War general, which instilled in her a deep appreciation for history and heroism. Guiney was educated at the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Providence, Rhode Island, where she developed a love for literature. Throughout her life, she was deeply involved in Boston’s literary circles, forging friendships with other poets and writers, including Alice Brown and Thomas Wentworth Higginson. Her poetry was influenced by English metaphysical and Romantic poets, reflecting a stylistic elegance and devotion to themes of faith, chivalry, and nature.

In the 1890s, Guiney moved to England, where she pursued her passion for medieval and Renaissance literature, dedicating herself to literary research rather than poetry. She worked as a librarian and scholar, focusing on editing and promoting lesser-known poets of the past. Despite her literary contributions, she struggled with financial difficulties and poor health, which limited her output in later years. She passed away in Chipping Campden, England, in 1920, leaving behind a legacy of poetry and essays that reflected her erudition, spiritual depth, and love for the poetic traditions of the past. Her work, though not widely known today, remains an important part of late 19th-century American literature.

Life
By Edith Wharton

Life, like a marble block, is given to all,
A blank, inchoate mass of years and days,
Whence one with ardent chisel swift essays
Some shape of strength or symmetry to call;
One shatters it in bits to mend a wall;
One in a craftier hand the chisel lays,
And one, to wake the mirth in Lesbia’s gaze,
Carves it apace in toys fantastical.

But least is he who, with enchanted eyes
Filled with high visions of fair shapes to be,
Muses which god he shall immortalize
In the proud Parian’s perpetuity,
Till twilight warns him from the punctual skies
That the night cometh wherein none shall see.

About the Poem

Edith Wharton’s poem “Life” is a reflective and philosophical piece that explores the nature of human existence, fate, and the passage of time. Wharton, best known for her novels that critique societal constraints, brings a similar depth and introspection to her poetry.  The poem suggests that life does not unfold according to human expectations or desires. Wharton explores the contrast between human ambition and the unpredictability of life, a theme echoed in her novels like The House of Mirth.  

There is a tone of resignation, as if the speaker has come to terms with life’s unpredictability. This reflects Wharton’s broader worldview—one shaped by personal loss, societal constraints, and the limits imposed on individuals, especially women. The poem may express skepticism about human agency, similar to existential or fatalistic themes. Wharton often wrote about characters who struggled against their circumstances, much like the speaker in “Life”.  

Wharton’s “Life” is a poignant meditation on disillusionment, fate, and the passage of time. The poem’s reflective tone aligns with her broader literary themes—the limits of personal choice, the illusions of control, and the inevitability of change.  

About the Poet

Edith Wharton (1862–1937) was an American novelist, short story writer, and poet best known for her incisive critiques of Gilded Age society and her exploration of themes like social class, gender roles, and personal freedom. Born into New York high society, she was well-acquainted with the restrictive customs of the upper class, which she later dissected in novels such as The House of Mirth (1905) and The Age of Innocence (1920), the latter of which won her the Pulitzer Prize, making her the first woman to receive the award for fiction.  

Beyond her fiction, Wharton was also a travel writer, designer, and war correspondent during World War I, for which she was honored by the French government. Her works often compared European and American cultures, reflecting her life as an expatriate in France. Though primarily known for her novels, she also wrote poetry, including works like “Life” and “A Meeting,” which explore existential themes with the same elegance and restraint found in her prose. Wharton’s legacy endures as one of the most significant literary voices of early 20th-century America.

Gravity and Center
By Henri Cole

I’m sorry I cannot say I love you when you say

you love me. The words, like moist fingers,

appear before me full of promise but then run away

to a narrow black room that is always dark,

where they are silent, elegant, like antique gold,

devouring the thing I feel. I want the force

of attraction to crush the force of repulsion

and my inner and outer worlds to pierce

one another, like a horse whipped by a man.

I don’t want words to sever me from reality.

I don’t want to need them. I want nothing

to reveal feeling but feeling—as in freedom,

or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,

or the sound of water poured in a bowl.

About the Poem

Henri Cole’s poem “Gravity and Center” is a meditation on desire, longing, and the search for balance in life. Like much of Cole’s poetry, it explores personal emotions and experiences with a lyrical and restrained intensity. The poem captures the tension between wanting and letting go. Cole often writes about longing in a way that feels both personal and universal, reflecting the fleeting nature of human emotions and attachments. 

The title suggests an invisible force that both holds things together and pulls them apart. Gravity can symbolize love, duty, or an internal struggle—things that keep a person anchored yet also cause tension. In contrast to gravity, the “center” suggests balance, self-control, or a point of inner peace. The poem may be about the struggle to find equilibrium between emotional intensity and the need for stability.

Cole frequently explores themes of identity, love, and mortality. This poem, in particular, conveys a sense of longing that might be connected to love, self-acceptance, or the search for meaning. “Gravity and Center” is deeply introspective, with a restrained yet emotionally charged tone. Cole’s use of simple yet elegant language allows for multiple interpretations, making the poem resonate with a wide audience. His poetry often embraces a balance between the personal and the universal, allowing readers to see their own experiences reflected in his words.

“Gravity and Center” is a poignant reflection on the human condition—our desires, our struggles for balance, and the forces that shape our emotional lives. Henri Cole’s precise and evocative style invites readers to sit with these tensions and reflect on their own experiences of love, longing, and stability.

About the Poet

Henri Cole is an American poet known for his deeply personal, lyrical, and emotionally introspective poetry. Born in Fukuoka, Japan, in 1956 to a French-Armenian mother and an American father, he grew up in Virginia. His work often explores themes of identity, love, desire, loss, and self-examination with a delicate yet powerful style. 

Cole’s poetry is characterized by its precise language, vivid imagery, and emotional depth. He frequently writes about desire, human relationships, and personal reflection, often weaving in themes of queerness and self-acceptance. His poems are elegant yet restrained, blending formal precision with raw emotion. He is often compared to poets like Elizabeth Bishop and James Merrill for his attention to craft and lyricism.

He has received numerous accolades, including the Jackson Poetry Prize, the Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award, and a Guggenheim Fellowship. Cole has taught at various universities and is regarded as one of the most significant contemporary American poets. Henri Cole’s poetry is admired for its emotional clarity, precision, and ability to capture deep human experiences with simple yet profound language. His work resonates with those who appreciate poetry that is both intimate and universal.

Climbing
By Amy Lowell

High up in the apple tree climbing I go,
With the sky above me, the earth below.
Each branch is the step of a wonderful stair
Which leads to the town I see shining up there.

Climbing, climbing, higher and higher,
The branches blow and I see a spire,
The gleam of a turret, the glint of a dome,
All sparkling and bright, like white sea foam.

On and on, from bough to bough,
The leaves are thick, but I push my way through;
Before, I have always had to stop,
But to-day I am sure I shall reach the top.

Today to the end of the marvelous stair,
Where those glittering pinacles flash in the air!
Climbing, climbing, higher I go,
With the sky close above me, the earth far below.

About the Poem

Amy Lowell’s poem “Climbing” is a short but evocative piece that explores the themes of perseverance, aspiration, and the struggle inherent in personal growth. The poem uses the extended metaphor of climbing a tree to symbolize the effort needed to overcome challenges and reach a goal. The poem emphasizes the difficulty of the climb, suggesting that progress is not easy but requires effort and resilience. The speaker’s journey upwards reflects an inner struggle, possibly one of ambition, self-improvement, or personal enlightenment.

Lowell often draws on nature in her poetry to reflect human emotions and experiences. The act of climbing could symbolize not just a physical effort but an emotional or intellectual journey. Despite the challenges, the act of climbing can also be rewarding. The higher one goes, the more perspective is gained, reinforcing the idea that struggle leads to greater understanding or achievement. Lowell, known for her imagist poetry, employs concise, vivid imagery to make the climb feel immediate and tangible. Her work often focuses on sensory details, so readers might feel the roughness of the terrain, the exertion of the journey, or the exhilaration of reaching higher ground.

About the Poet

Amy Lowell (1874–1925) was an influential American poet, critic, and promoter of the Imagist movement in early 20th-century poetry. Born into a wealthy and prominent Boston family, she had access to a strong education but was largely self-taught in poetry. Though she never attended college, she was well-read and deeply interested in literature.

Lowell became a major advocate for Imagism, a movement that emphasized clarity, precision, and economy of language in poetry. While Imagism was initially associated with poets like Ezra Pound and H.D. (Hilda Doolittle), Lowell became one of its most prominent figures after Pound distanced himself from the movement. She published multiple collections, including Sword Blades and Poppy Seed (1914), Men, Women, and Ghosts (1916), and Pictures of the Floating World (1919). Her poetry often used free verse, striking imagery, and themes of nature, love, and modern life.

Lowell was an outspoken and unconventional figure, known for her strong personality and advocacy for poetry. She was also in a committed relationship with actress Ada Dwyer Russell, and her poetry frequently contains themes of passionate love, often interpreted as inspired by their relationship. Her later years were dedicated to promoting poetry, both through her own work and through lectures and criticism. She won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry posthumously in 1926 for What’s O’Clock (1925). Despite being somewhat overshadowed by male contemporaries during her lifetime, Lowell’s work has gained renewed recognition, especially for her role in modernizing poetry and expanding the Imagist movement.

The Journey
by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

About the Poem

Mary Oliver’s poem “The Journey” is a deeply inspirational and metaphorical piece about personal transformation, self-discovery, and resilience. It describes the speaker’s realization that they must leave behind external voices and influences in order to forge their own path in life. The poem is often interpreted as an encouragement to break free from unhealthy situations, relationships, or societal expectations to embrace one’s own truth.

The poem begins with a sense of urgency—”One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began.” This opening line sets the stage for the journey as a necessary and inevitable step toward self-liberation. The speaker acknowledges that, although others may demand their attention and try to hold them back, they must move forward. Oliver vividly describes the external voices calling after the speaker, emphasizing how difficult it is to break away. These voices represent societal pressures, relationships, or even self-doubt that try to prevent change. The imagery of a storm and darkness conveys the challenges and emotional turmoil of making such a difficult decision.

Despite the hardships, the speaker persists, pushing forward into the unknown. The journey becomes symbolic of self-reliance and personal growth. The physical struggle in the poem mirrors an internal struggle to stay true to oneself despite fear and uncertainty. By the end of the poem, the speaker finds that the world begins to open up—”the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds.” This suggests enlightenment, hope, and a sense of peace. The journey was painful, but it was necessary to achieve personal freedom and fulfillment.

“The Journey” is a poem about finding the strength to follow one’s own path despite external pressures. Mary Oliver’s simple yet profound language makes it a universal and uplifting piece that resonates with anyone undergoing a period of change or self-discovery. The poem ultimately affirms that, though the journey may be difficult, it is essential for living an authentic and fulfilled life.

About the Poet

Mary Oliver (1935–2019) was an American poet known for her deep connection to nature, spirituality, and the themes of self-discovery, love, and mindfulness. She was one of the most beloved contemporary poets, celebrated for her accessible yet profound writing style that resonated with readers across generations. Born in Maple Heights, Ohio, Oliver had a difficult childhood and found solace in nature and poetry. She was heavily influenced by poets such as Walt Whitman and Rainer Maria Rilke, whose themes of transcendence and deep observation of the world around them echoed in her own work. In her teenage years, she spent time at the home of poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, helping to organize Millay’s papers, which further shaped her literary career.

Oliver lived much of her life in Provincetown, Massachusetts, where she found inspiration in the coastal landscapes. She was in a long-term relationship with photographer Molly Malone Cook, who was also her literary agent. Their partnership greatly influenced Oliver’s poetry, often bringing themes of love and companionship into her work.

Mary Oliver’s poetry remains widely read and quoted, particularly in spiritual and self-help communities. Her work continues to inspire readers to embrace nature, self-reflection, and the beauty of everyday life. She was often compared to poets like Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost for her ability to capture deep truths in simple, evocative language. Her most famous lines, such as “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” from “The Summer Day,” encapsulate the essence of her poetic vision—one of wonder, appreciation, and a call to live fully.

Thank you, Susan, for sending me this wonderful and thought provoking poem.

Jesus at the Gay Bar
By Jay Hulme

He’s here in the midst of it –
right at the centre of the dance floor,
robes hitched up to His knees
to make it easy to spin.

At some point in the evening
a boy will touch the hem of His robe
and beg to be healed, beg to be
anything other than this;

and He will reach His arms out,
sweat-damp, and weary from dance.
He’ll cup this boy’s face in His hand and say,

          my beautiful child
there is nothing in this heart of yours
that ever needs to be healed.

About the Poem

I have posted “Jesus at the Gay Bar” by Jay Hulme once before, but I really love the poem. Some won’t like it because it doesn’t rhyme, but I think it’s beautifully composed. Jay Hulme says he based the poem on Mark 5:25-34 “drawing a parallel between the unnamed woman in the passage, and queer people – more particularly, the “boy” in the poem, a young LGBT man struggling with his queerness, and, it is suggested, struggling with how that reconciles with his faith….To understand the parallel more clearly you first have to understand the context behind Mark 5. Under Levitical law (Leviticus 15:25-30), as it was followed at that time, the woman would have been deemed ‘unclean’ by religious authorities, and she would have been cast out from society for the ‘good’ of that society. (To read more about Hulme’s explanation of the poem, see “Jesus at the Gay Bar” on his website; to read my thoughts on the poem, continue reading.)

“Jesus at the Gay Bar” by Jay Hulme is a powerful and evocative poem that reimagines Jesus in a contemporary queer space, offering a vision of divine love, acceptance, and liberation. The poem challenges traditional religious narratives that have often excluded or condemned LGBTQ+ individuals, instead presenting Jesus as a compassionate and affirming presence. The poem portrays Jesus as someone who embraces and affirms those who have been marginalized, particularly within religious contexts. By placing Jesus in a gay bar, Hulme subverts the expectation that religion excludes queer people, instead showing that Christ’s love extends to everyone.

A key moment in the poem is when Jesus tells a man, “my beautiful child / there is nothing in this heart of yours / that ever needs to be healed.” This line is deeply significant, as it counters the messages of shame and guilt that many LGBTQ+ individuals have received from religious institutions. Jesus is depicted not as a judge, but as a liberator, offering reassurance and unconditional love. By placing Jesus in a gay bar—a space of joy, resistance, and self-expression—Hulme suggests that holiness is not confined to churches or traditional religious spaces. The sacred is found wherever love, truth, and authenticity exist. The poem reclaims religious imagery and reinterprets Christian theology in a way that aligns with radical inclusivity. It challenges the ways Christianity has been used to oppress queer people and instead offers a vision of faith that is celebratory and affirming.

Hulme’s language is tender and intimate, creating a Jesus who is close, personal, and deeply invested in human dignity. The setting of the gay bar, often seen as a place of refuge and community for LGBTQ+ people, reinforces the idea that Jesus meets people where they are, rather than demanding they conform to rigid religious norms.

The contrast between traditional religious depictions of Jesus and this reimagining makes the poem striking. Instead of being distant or judgmental, Jesus is in the midst of dancing, embracing, and healing—actions that symbolize love, grace, and inclusion. “Jesus at the Gay Bar” is a radical and hopeful poem that reclaims faith as a source of love rather than condemnation. It offers a vision of a Christ who is not only present with LGBTQ+ people but actively affirms and delights in their existence. Hulme’s poem is a powerful response to religious exclusion, offering an alternative theology rooted in unconditional love.

About the Poet

Jay Hulme is a British poet, writer, and public speaker known for his work on faith, gender, and LGBTQ+ identity. He is particularly recognized for his accessible and evocative poetry, which often explores themes of queerness, religion, and social justice. Hulme is a transgender man, and his experiences with gender identity and faith frequently inform his writing.

His poetry blends modern, often urban imagery with deep emotional resonance and themes of inclusivity, hope, and belonging. In addition to poetry, Hulme is an advocate for trans rights and speaks publicly about the intersection of faith and queerness, challenging exclusionary religious narratives.

Hulme has published several poetry collections, including Clouds Cannot Cover Us and The Backwater Sermons, the latter of which explicitly engages with spirituality and justice. His work has been widely praised for its lyrical style and its ability to bridge divides between faith communities and LGBTQ+ individuals.

Surrender
By Angelina Weld Grimké

We ask for peace. We, at the bound
O life, are weary of the round
In search of Truth. We know the quest
Is not for us, the vision blest
Is meant for other eyes. Uncrowned,
We go, with heads bowed to the ground,
And old hands, gnarled and hard and browned.
Let us forget the past unrest,—
      We ask for peace.

Our strainéd ears are deaf,—no sound
May reach them more; no sight may wound
Our worn-out eyes. We gave our best,
And, while we totter down the West,
Unto that last, that open mound,—
    We ask for peace.

About the Poem

Angelina Weld Grimké’s poem “Surrender” is a deeply evocative work that explores themes of love, longing, and emotional vulnerability. As a poet of the Harlem Renaissance, Grimké often infused her poetry with intense emotions, subtle sensuality, and themes of suppressed or forbidden desire. “Surrender” conveys a sense of deep yearning, as the speaker seems to express an intense, possibly unreciprocated, love. The act of surrendering suggests giving oneself completely to another, either emotionally or physically. Grimké’s work often hints at restrained or hidden desire, possibly influenced by her position as a Black woman and the social constraints of her time. “Surrender” could be read as an exploration of the tension between desire and societal expectations.

Grimké frequently uses natural imagery in her poetry to symbolize emotions. The poem may contain references to elements like wind, water, or the body’s physical responses, deepening the emotional intensity. The title itself, “Surrender,” suggests an act of yielding—perhaps to love, to passion, or to fate. The poem’s tone might oscillate between fear and exhilaration, reflecting the emotional risk of loving someone completely.

As a Harlem Renaissance writer, Grimké was one of the first Black female poets to explore themes of personal and romantic love in ways that subtly challenged societal norms. While her poetry was not overtly political, it carried deep undercurrents of resistance—whether against racial oppression or restrictive gender roles. Some interpretations suggest that Grimké’s works may hint at same-sex desire, adding another layer of meaning to “Surrender.”

About the Poet

Angelina Weld Grimké (1880–1958) was an African American poet, playwright, and journalist, best known for her contributions to the Harlem Renaissance and her exploration of themes related to race, gender, love, and oppression. Though she was not as widely recognized as some of her contemporaries, her work remains significant for its emotional depth and its role in early 20th-century Black literature.

Born in Boston, Massachusetts, Grimké came from a family deeply involved in abolitionist and civil rights causes. She was one of the first African American women to write a play centered on racial injustice. Her poetry, though often quiet and introspective, carried powerful messages about race, identity, and emotional longing. Her legacy has influenced later Black women writers, particularly those exploring themes of race, gender, and sexuality.

She was the daughter of Archibald Grimké, a prominent Black lawyer and activist, and Sarah Stanley Grimké, a white woman from a progressive family. Her great-aunts, Angelina Grimké Weld and Sarah Grimké, were well-known white abolitionists who had fought against slavery in the 19th century. Her parents’ interracial marriage was unconventional for the time, and her mother left the family when Angelina was very young, leading to a strained relationship with her father. Grimké attended the Boston Normal School of Gymnastics (later part of Wellesley College) and went on to teach English in Washington, D.C. She was one of the few Black women educators in the early 1900s and taught at Dunbar High School, a prestigious institution for African American students.

Grimké’s writing spanned poetry, drama, and journalism. She was associated with the Harlem Renaissance, though she wrote earlier than many of its key figures. Her poetry often explored themes of love, nature, racial injustice, and emotional longing. Some of her most famous poems include “The Black Finger,” “A Winter Twilight,” and “Surrender”—which deal with identity, desire, and the beauty of the natural world. Her poems often carried subtle undertones of suppressed emotions and possibly same-sex love, making her an early figure in LGBTQ+ literary history.

Grimké’s most famous work is the play Rachel (1916), one of the first plays written by an African American woman and produced by a Black theater company. Rachel was a response to the violent racism of the time, particularly the lynching epidemic. The play follows a young Black woman who, after witnessing racial injustice, vows never to bring children into such a cruel world. The play was commissioned by the NAACP as a form of social protest and is considered one of the first anti-lynching dramas.

Grimké never married and was a private person. Scholars have speculated that her poetry and personal letters suggest she may have had romantic feelings for women, making her an early, though understated, LGBTQ+ literary voice. Her work was largely forgotten after her death in 1958, but feminist and Black literary scholars rediscovered her in the late 20th century, recognizing her contributions to African American literature and activism.

Paul’s Tattoo
By Mark Doty

The flesh dreams toward permanence,

and so this red carp noses from the inked dusk
of a young man’s forearm as he tilts

the droning burren of his trade toward
the blank page of my dear one’s bicep

—a scene framed, from where I watch,
in an arched mirror, a niche of mercuried glass

the shape of those prosceniums in which still lifes
reside, in cool museum rooms: tulips and medlars,

oysters and snails and flies on permanently
perishing fruit: vanitas. All is vanitas,

for these two arms—one figured, one just beginning
to be traced with the outline of a heart—

are surrounded by a cabinet of curiosities,
the tattooist’s reflected shelves of skulls

—horses, pigs?—and photos of lobes and nipples
shocked into style. Trappings of evil

unlikely to convince: the shop’s called 666,
a casket and a pitbull occupy the vestibule,

but the coffin’s pink and the hell-hound licked
our faces clean as the latex this bearded boy donned

to prick the veil my lover’s skin presents
—rent, now, with a slightly comic heart

warmly ironic, lightly shaded, and crowned
as if to mean feeling’s queen or king of any day,

certainly this one, a quarter-hour suddenly galvanized
by a rippling electric trace firing adrenalin

and an odd sense of limit defied.
Not overcome, exactly; this artist’s

filled his shop with evidence of that.
To what else do these clean,

Dutch-white bones testify? But resistant,
still, skin grown less subject to change,

ruled by what is drawn there:
a freshly shadowed corazon now heron-dark,

and ringed by blue exultant bits of flame
—yods, the Tarot calls them, fire-tongues

of intensity, as if the self contained too much
to be held, and flung out droplets

of sweat or flame, the dear proud flesh
—stingingly warm—a steadier hand

has raised into art, or a wound, or both.
The work’s done, our design complete.

A bandage, to absorb whatever pigment
the newly writ might weep,

a hundred guilders, a handshake, back out
onto the street. Now all his life

he wears his heart beneath his sleeve.

About the Poem

Mark Doty’s poem Paul’s Tattoo explores themes of memory, loss, and the lasting imprint of love and experience. The poem describes a tattoo on Paul’s arm—an image of a green-blue fish, likely a koi or something similarly symbolic. This tattoo serves as both a personal emblem and a broader metaphor for resilience, beauty, and the way past experiences stay with us.

Doty often writes about queer identity, mortality, and the AIDS crisis, and Paul’s Tattoo fits within these larger themes. The tattoo, permanent and vibrant, contrasts with the fragility of life. It suggests a desire for something lasting amid impermanence, perhaps hinting at Paul’s own struggles or the inevitability of loss. The poem’s language is lush and evocative, characteristic of Doty’s style, and it uses imagery of water and movement to reinforce ideas of transformation and survival.

Ultimately, Paul’s Tattoo is a meditation on how people carry their histories—both physically and emotionally. The tattoo becomes a marker of identity, love, and remembrance, much like poetry itself.

About the Poet

Mark Doty is an American poet and memoirist known for his luminous, deeply personal writing that explores themes of beauty, loss, memory, and queer identity. Born in 1953, he has published numerous acclaimed poetry collections, including My Alexandria (1993),Atlantis (1995), and Fire to Fire: New and Selected Poems (2008), which won the National Book Award. His work is often associated with elegy and reflection, particularly in response to the AIDS crisis, as seen in his moving poems about love and grief.

Doty is also a celebrated memoirist, with works like Heaven’s Coast (1996) and Dog Years (2007), in which he blends poetic language with deeply felt personal narratives. His writing is known for its lush imagery and precise attention to the physical world, often drawing on art, nature, and urban life.

A highly respected literary figure, Doty has received many awards, including the T.S. Eliot Prize, making him the first American to win the honor. He has also taught at various universities and is still an influential voice in contemporary poetry.

After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home
By Sue Hyon Bae

even though it’s so very late
and they have to report to their jobs
in a few hours, they both get in the car,
one driving, one shotgun, you in the back
like a child needing a drive to settle into sleep,
even though one could drive and the other
sleep, because they can’t sleep
without each other, they’d rather drive you
across the city rather than be apart for half an hour,
the office buildings lit pointlessly beautiful
for nobody except you to admire their reflections
in the water, the lovers too busy talking
about that colleague they don’t like,
tomorrow’s dinner plans, how once
they bought peaches on a road trip and ate and ate
until they could taste it in each other’s pores,
they get out of the car together to kiss you goodnight,
you who have perfected the ghost goodbye,
exiting gatherings noiselessly, leaving only
a dahlia-scented perfume, your ribcage
compressing to slide through doors ajar and untouched,
yesterday you were a flash of white in a pigeon’s blinking eye,
in the day few hours old you stand solid and full
of other people’s love for each other
spilling over, warm leftovers.

About the Poem

Sue Hyon Bae’s poem “After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home” is a poignant exploration of intimacy, vulnerability, and the complicated emotions that arise from unconventional romantic or sexual experiences. As you read this poem, I’d like you to read it two different ways. First read it all the way through like one long run on sentence. Then read each line separately, stopping after to each one considering the line itself as separate from the poem. By reading it in those two very different ways, I think you will come to a better understanding of the nuances of the poem and the small details that form its narrative and cadence.

The poem’s title sets the stage for a layered, nuanced narrative, framing the aftermath of a threesome in an evocative and emotionally charged way and is particularly significant. “They Both Take You Home” suggests a sense of care, perhaps even responsibility, from the other two individuals. Yet it also implies a sense of being passed along, as though the speaker lacks agency or is separate from the bond between the other two. This duality reflects the poem’s larger themes of connection and alienation. “After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home” is a deeply emotional poem that captures the vulnerability of human connection in unconventional contexts. Through its reflective tone and evocative imagery, the poem invites readers to contemplate the complexities of intimacy, longing, and the spaces between people. It is a piece that lingers in the mind, much like the emotional residue of the moment it describes.

Bae employs understated sensuality, avoiding overt descriptions of the threesome itself and instead focusing on the quieter, more emotionally charged moments after. The imagery often feels muted, almost dreamlike, as if the speaker is processing the experience from a distance. The poem lingers on small, mundane details that carry emotional weight—a touch, a glance, or the silence in the car. These details serve to ground the poem in realism while heightening its emotional resonance. The poem thrives in its ambiguity, leaving much unsaid. The relationships between the speaker and the other two participants are unclear, which mirrors the emotional confusion of the moment.

The poem juxtaposes closeness with distance. Although the threesome is an inherently intimate act, the aftermath reveals how that closeness can magnify feelings of isolation. The speaker seems caught between two people who are physically present but emotionally distant, creating a stark tension. It subtly addresses the shifting power dynamics in relationships. The two partners may appear united, perhaps in their understanding of each other, while the speaker feels like an outsider even within this intimate moment. This reflects the imbalance of connection among the trio. There’s an undercurrent of longing throughout the poem—not just for physical connection, but for emotional understanding. The speaker grapples with the bittersweet reality of fleeting intimacy and its inability to fully satisfy deeper desires. The speaker appears acutely aware of the fleeting nature of the moment, and the poem captures how such experiences, though brief, can leave an emotional resonance that lingers.

About the Poet

Sue Hyon Bae is a poet and translator raised in South Korea, Malaysia, and Texas. She is the author of the poetry collection Truce Country, published by Eyewear Publishing in 2019, and co-translator of Kim Hyesoon’s A Drink of Red Mirror (Action Books, 2019). Bae’s poetry often explores themes of identity, memory, and cultural displacement, reflecting her diverse upbringing and experiences across different countries. She continues to contribute to the literary field through her writing and translations, bridging cultural and linguistic gaps.

Bae earned her Master of Fine Arts (MFA) from Arizona State University (ASU) and is currently pursuing a PhD in Comparative Culture and Languages at ASU’s School of International Letters and Cultures.  During her time at ASU, she served as the International Poetry Editor for Hayden’s Ferry Review. Her work has appeared in publications such as Four Chambers Press, Minetta Review, Apple Valley Review, and Please Hold Magazine.  Additionally, her manuscript Truce Country was shortlisted for the 2017 Sexton Prize for Poetry.