Poetry Weekly

Welcome to the first installment of Poetry Weekly – the week’s best online poetry with excerpts, links and (occasional) commentary by yours truly. This week we are featuring poetry by Alberto Álvero Rios, Alex Buckey, Marcela Sulak, Susan Wood and William Matthews.



  • “Feeding the Compost Heap” by Alberto Álvero Rios:

Dried teas and sweet peels, shriveling rinds and still-wet fruit—
The compost gatherings speak something to the day and whimper

In the night, alive with their odd congress, this meeting of sours,
Blackness, citrus yellows, coffee grounds, hard sticks and green

Leaves half-brown, onion skins and onion itself, apple and orange
Seeds, pear stems and cut grass, old pomegranates and carrot.

What I eat, that heap has eaten. What I like, it gets, but less of….read more atNarrative


  • “Ernest Hemingway, Yelper” by Alex Buckey:

Sun City Asian Bistro and Café
Category: Asian

I called Sam and asked him if he wanted to come to dinner but he said he had softball practice and I said that was a damned shame and hung up. When I got to Sun City Bea and Rob were at were at the bar, behind tattooed women and men with guitars. They were sitting in the shade and their beers were half empty. We drank beer and ate pho but Rob was restless and did not talk very much. He said he wanted to go see a band that was playing in a dive bar across town. Bea called him a smug hipster and Rob called her a bitch and I sat and drank my beer and wished I had not come. They left early and I paid for Bea’s spring rolls and went home alone…read more at McSweeney’s


  • “Marriage: Flesh of My Flesh, Bone of My Bone” by Marcela Sulak:

A bone stretched to its full length, in its private
burial cave, or a bone oblivious of light,

of lust and of teeth? A bone over which
bitches have fought. It’s picked clean on a polished

floor. A bone turning over its dreaming…read more at Guernica


  • “The Soul Bone” by Susan Wood:

Once I said I didn’t have a spiritual bone
in my body and meant by that
I didn’t want to think of death,
as though any bone in us
could escape it. Maybe….read more at Poetry Daily


  • “My Father’s Body” by William Matthews:

First they take it away,
for now the body belongs to the state.
They open it
to see what may have killed it….read more at The Writer’s Almanac


This idea was taken from Full-Stop’s “Fiction Weekly” feature. If you don’t know Full-Stop, you should. Check them out HERE.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

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