Corey Van Landingham

Apr 17, 2024 | poetryfoundation.org | Corey Van Landingham

Hello—Tonight we’ll trace the static bough, temporalis to tailbone, cool stone, the childhood grotto you always sleepless haunt, audible dripping from the ferns’ pre-Raphaelite, gauzy frame. I’m rasping your spine with the edge of a wooden spoon. Stranger, I love  you. Even if you have no small chimpanzee to rock you back and forth.

Apr 16, 2024 | poetryfoundation.org | Corey Van Landingham |Virginia Konchan

By Corey Van Landingham Corey Van Landingham’s Reader, I moves between intimate address and artful uncovering of foundational myths relating to the institution of marriage.

Apr 9, 2024 | poetryfoundation.org | Corey Van Landingham

Why not climb up the mountain             of delight? To this world’s thin meridian, why not be not elsewhere, not cellaring the sulk and brood, pores cavernous                         and visible, the rustling aspen portentous, the sorry             unsaid. This world. Hello.

Jun 19, 2023 | newyorker.com | Corey Van Landingham

Let them eat corn dogs. Let thempeel from its sack a freezer-burnt popsicle,lime, green as an alien gem. Let them pluck from the strung garland of chips. Sugaring their lips with the fine gritof Sour Patch Kids, these strange childrenlift to their mouths those soft little bodiesand chew. They forget, for just a moment, the waterfrom which they’ve been banished. Then a pause in the guard station’s country radio—they pirouette back and begin,again, to sulk. Gawk. Let them.