there’s a hole through which reasoning escapes

The pain wasn’t in dying/ but in belief in you, that you required of me

The Foley Poetry Prize has been awarded every spring since 1988.

the now-maimed but still living parents beg, “Arise, come forth!”

I know your ghost still drifts like a dirty angel through this town.

Greg Pardlo's new memoir clips quickly along and burdens the reader with almost no slow moments.