Each Wednesday, Editor's Choice brings you a poem from a new book selected as a must-read. Our feature editor this week is Brian Teare.
Oliver Baez Bendorf
Moon river, swollen river, river of starhole
and bright, harness river, lichen river,
river we velvet with our filth.
River of butter and river of witches, river
cracked open careful like egg, or burst
apart, unleashing its violet load.
River mouths, river beds, every back
forty creek, every crick, made of
trickles, made of synth, river of sound
as vibration, river where we all get free.
River that curve down a backbone.
River through which I particle heat.
Feathery and wet, lemony and loud,
river that still smells skin, browned
around a neck, softened with sweat.
River you wear tight on your hips,
given in private, or out in the open.

River I dream about. River from the inside.
River where we shouts the feeling.

Septum river, bundle river, river of mercy, sometimes edging so far into
        night the moon goes
                                                                         (whoosh)                 dark.
Yes, all night river, burnt sugar river.
We pull the river into our bellies, we
go out walking. We river in darkness
as entire paw prints of color and light.
Everything rivers in motion. River
of holy, river of freaks, river where
my fur belong to me. Softer than
it seem river. Honey and Vaseline river.
Brown river, black river, off the map river.
I will be there, printing textures of rock
on the skin of me, belly down, face down.
My god, it is good to be home.
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Cover of Jericho Brown's The Tradition
Poetry to Help Summer Linger

"Tess Taylor gives Mary Louise Kelly a few poems to help summer vibes linger," including poems by C.D. Wright, Jericho Brown, and Stefania Heim. "Poetry is light and fast. It's - you can read a poem in a minute, and then it can linger with you. And so it's a little way of keeping some daydreaminess with you as we head into this very busy season."

via NPR
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Cover of Cesar Vallejo's Complete Posthumous Poems

"I don’t read this poem and think of the practical relevance or irrelevance of poetry, but I do get the sense of being both cursed and culpable from the way Vallejo renders conscious (and consciousness of) suffering. It may seem strange to say that the poem feels like a chance to notice when it expresses so much restless melancholy, but the speaker’s honesty with his doubts keeps his sense of compassion from hardening into self-congratulation."
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