Some of them have been publishing for several years but have not had enough coverage until now. Some are just starting to write in the genre. The majority of them are prize-winning poets, while others are thriving on Instagram. No matter: these best new poets demonstrate that they can really capture hearts and minds in just a few strings of words. I hope that the aforementioned best new poets in this century satisfy your poetry cravings. If you find yourself speeding through all of their works, don’t worry, as your way of reading is perfectly valid. Her third poetry collection, The Renunciations, is poignant, personal, and lyrical. She’s now one of my favorite poets. Here are stunning verses from the poem “The moon rose over the bay. I had a lot of feelings.”: The home I’ve been making inside myself started with a razing, a brush clearing, the thorn and nettle, the blackberry bush falling under the bush hog… …I stood in the mud field and called it a pasture. Stood with a needle in my mouth and called it a song. Everything rushed past my small ears: whir in the leaves, whir in the wing and the wood. About time to get a hammer, I thought. About time to get a nail and saw. His poems are mostly autobiographical and confessional in nature; they are also very accessible. Her debut poetry collection, Even Shorn, got a starred review from Publishers Weekly. I wish it were a little bit longer, because at 98 pages, I find myself wanting more. Here are my favorite lines from the poem titled “Complaint” in Even Shorn: what are bones that they can feel be vexed for stillness as the wind prepares to choose the word most carefully for rain the silty dread when rocks will slither down the mountain in a saffron scarf the rags of hillsides pool into a pillow for my dreaming there is comfort to be taken when two dreads are parted should I drown my couch in tears In his second collection titled Besiege Me, he writes about the friction between China and Hong Kong. In an interview with Lambda Literary, Wong said that Besiege Me was born out of personal and political events in his life, mainly the recent happenings in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and also about his family. Here are my favorite verses from the poem “Elegy for the Undead” from All the Gay Saints: …Young people die because they are too alive. This is proven algorithm. This is breaststroke with a concaved lung. There is a lesson to be learned from those that refuse to go gently. I’ve learned to keep my tongue wet, and soft, and gentle. He is the recipient of Pushcart and Lucille Medwick Memorial awards. Among his works are Portrait of the Alcoholic, Calling a Wolf a Wolf, and Pilgrim Bell. Here are my favorite lines from the poem “Pilgrim Bell,” off the collection of the same title: How long can you speak. Without inhaling. How long. Can you inhale without. Bursting apart. History is wagging… …Today I answer only. To my war name. Wise. Salt. I can make. A stone float off into. The sky. I can make. A whole family. Disappear. I know. So many people. Have been awful to you. I’ve given each one. A number. When you’re ready. I will ask you to draw me. Their hands. She has been a Mark Diamond Research Fellow at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. Her tenth poetry collection titled Curb received a starred review from Publishers Weekly. Smith won the 2017 Literary Award for Best Poetry Book from the Black Caucus of the American Library Association. Here’s an excerpt from “what the fire hydrant said to the black boy” from Counting Descent: …they say we both stay posted on corners they say we both come with warnings for others not to stand too close but we both mind our own business until people use us for things we were never meant for do you know what it means for your existence to be defined by someone else’s intentions? a burning home a burning cross putting a boy against the wall so the dogs have an easier time of course you know a prison cell an empty gun a mourning mother of a boy who thought sending him to that school across town would mean he’d have an easier time but when they open us spilling until there’s nothing left inside everyone stands around to watch. Lanuza’s fourth poetry book is I Must Belong Somewhere: Poetry and Prose, in which she contemplates a lot of subjects such as mental health, bullying, and sexism, among others. The poems from the said collection appear to be untitled. Here’s an excerpt from the 22nd entry: How do you carry the guilt of leaving for a moment for yourself? …You hold on and pull them up, but the weight, even for you, is too much. You strain your muscles— no, don’t let go. You get that resigned look, and you know. They will let you go— and soon. Among his poetry collections are The Devil’s Garden; Mixology; The Big Smoke, a finalist for the National Book Award and Pulitzer Prize; and Map to the Stars. His fifth collection is Somebody Else Sold the World. Here’s an excerpt from “Where to Begin” in Somebody Else Sold the World: …my chest is cresting inside its loosed-limb protest. There’s my cold-pressed undress over there, adjacent to anything practical. I can’t wait to lick all of it off of you with my mediocre metaphors. Just like yesterday’s surprises, it’s past my time to shine. Meanwhile, Friends in other countries have been out in their damp streets for months echoing in concision. They’ve bundled the back-in-the-days at the end of a stick, then over one shoulder for the prolonged procession. & then there’s us, spinning in place like the last platinum record in the stack. & then there’s us, caught up in America’s slacking atrium. And in case you get lost with all the terminology used in those books (because poets use figurative language), we’ve got you covered!
