An invokation of Super Mario Brothers, Buddhists, and the customers at your local Starbucks.
A new poem by the author of Green Squall and winner of the 2005 Yale Series of Younger Poets Award.
The life of a poet in New York means recognizing the important appellations and knowing when to take the (grant) money and run.
The U.S. presidential inauguration in January will be one for the ages. A hat tip to Langston Hughes.
In spite of all the reporters crawling around Alaska, Gov. Palin remains unknown to the general public. Thanks to W.H. Auden.
The presidential election continues to bring forth policy promises and attempts at soul-bearing honesty.
With primary season nearly over, the two remaining Democrats are each facing their own demons. Perhaps some poetry will be an inspiration?
Delegates, primaries, ads, and speeches, mean the campaign season is full of chaos and noise. Putting things in order—in iambic tetrameter, that is.
Soaring rhetoric is getting the short straw this campaign season, so how about some pointed poesy?
Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week we help a reader choose between political candidates by applying modern poetry to the process.
The first installment of our occasional series in which we transform recent Times obituaries—a gong striker, a burger matriarch, a bagpipe virtuoso—into light verse.
At the rager the chicks come and go, talking about art or something. In time for a hundred hip-hop-hoorays, a frat-boy adapation of T.S. Eliot’s “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”