Michael Robbins It’s the Chinese Year of the Fire Drill. I walk the fields — alfalfa, falafel, falderal. Nothing out here but syllables, high as Aegean okra, and a few post-agrarian silos, dotless i’s that dormice catch some z’s in. They’re rich like me, this time of the season. Convair…

Jordan Davis: How about the Leonard Cohen story? Kenneth Koch: I met Leonard Cohen on the island of Hydra in Greece where Janice and Katherine age five and I had gone for a summer vacation. And we became very good friends. We traveled also to Turkey together, to Istanbul. I…

Sandra Simonds In the middle of a pool of falcons, I am voluptuous but lame. And marbles. And more marbles on the table. I wear a rose dress perfumed with lament. In this room, I have hurt myself so I become dangerous, fatal and even the mourner’s bouquet cannot save my wolf…

Sina Queyras But come my poppy Tell us of your travels, Tell us the fate of October Of optimism, of the emptiness To come. . Ladowich Magazine is available in the Apple Newsstand — https://t.co/bhbBwDr0F9 — offering just enough poetry and one longread a month. This poem will appear in issue seven, arriving before the new year. Do us a favor? Click that green “Recommend” button below to let people know how good this is. Thanks!

K. Silem Mohammad I am the holy idiot of rhymes; I dish these tasty iambs in my sleep; I’ve solved a hundred literary crimes With anagrams of FREE URIAH HEEP. I’ve bedded lovely ladies who were moved By sentences I stole from Google searches; “This Lime Tree Bower My Prison” was improved When…

Ann Stephenson . Leprechauns refer to us our greens and golds a waxed anorak, what’s so good about that we’ll shed everything all the layers I am best stripped airflow only to open up a new wing they kicked all the people out of the building the one with turrets …

Dionne Charlet I’ve siphoned quarries of amygdala to whet the parch of white from a faux leather couch binging through Star Trek and lost arks in a room we just painted Behr Interlude. I might be bordered on the lop side but there are slick traces of you metamorphosing from the pancake…

Joel Sloman Situated at the end of a long covered walk my summer house looks out on the Tyrrhenian Sea. It’s a quiet retreat where I can read or write or be read to. My car is in the driveway and the city is just two hours away. The plush mullein…

Simon Schuchat there’s a passage in Mencken’s diaries — now, I think Mencken’s a great writer — so don’t take this wrong — anyway, he describes a somewhat large immigrant Jewish family down the street and how they inspire in him powerful feelings of disgust and the thing is my great-grandfather…