Audio Feature: Rebekah Wolman (Shō No. 5)
as abecedarian. Beehive. Corner cabinet, desk / detritus. Earthshine. Faultline. As gristle and gall.
Audio Feature: Mollie O’Leary
It’s true—the scene is charged / with a heat surpassing what I endured to arrive here.
A Conversation with Arah Ko
INTERVIEW A Conversation with Arah Ko Shō intern Claire Zhou interviews Shō contributor Arah Ko, whose poems “Magpie 까치” and “Fiddleback” appear in Shō No. 4. Arah is the author of Brine Orchid (YesYes Books 2025) and the chapbook Animal Logic (Bull City Press 2026). Claire Zhou Hi Arah! I’ve read both of your poems …
Audio Feature: Luke Johnson (Shō No. 3)
“This poem is one of many calls and/or responses to the poet Megan Merchant. Our co-authored collection A Slow Indwelling comes out Fall 2024 from Harbor Editions and deals with a father and mother wrestling through cultural violence, the fragility of childhood, the preciousness of a parents love, and the beauty and pain expressed through the natural world.”
Audio Feature: Megan Merchant (Shō No. 3)
This poem is part of a larger epistolary exchange, "A Slow Indwelling", with Luke Johnson, and will be published this fall with Harbor Editions.
Audio Feature: Jeddie Sophronius (Shō No. 5)
I’m more broken than I’ve ever been. / This shell of a body, emptied / and longing.
Audio Feature: Arah Ko (Shō No. 4)
These trees war scalded from the mountains, burnt stubble, replanted when my father was a child, now tall again.
Audio Feature: Donna Vorreyer (Shō No. 5)
The last night with my mother, I blinded like a snake in the blue, /
shed the skin of daughter and switched roles
Audio Feature: Eylie Sasajima (Shō No. 4)
i am here with you by the premade sushi. / by the out-of-season strawberries. / by the tofu.
Audio Feature: Mckendy Fils-Aimé (Shō No. 5)
we stumble through a forest / of awkward silences, careful not to touch // the brambles.
Audio Feature: Nyree Abrahamian (Shō No. 5)
I can think of a few things more entrenched, / like language, syllables strung together // in a lilt
A Conversation with Nathan Xavier Osorio
INTERVIEW A Conversation with Nathan Xavier Osorio Shō intern Claire Zhou interviews Shō contributor Nathan Xavier Osorio, whose poems “How to Cook a Wolf,” “Empty Stadiums,” and “Come, Little Hunger” appear in Shō No. 4. Nathan’s debut collection of poetry, Querida, won the 2024 Agnes Lynch Starrett Poetry Prize, selected by Shara McCallum. Claire Zhou …
Audio Feature: Corey Baron (Shō No. 5)
After all, what way is there to leave / a dance floor other than wet // & shaking under a mass of pleading / legs all huddled into a single moving // sacrifice—swaying tall & drowning / in bass?
Audio Feature: Jessica Nirvana Ram (Shō No. 5)
The days have been heavy lately, /
an albatross on each shoulder
Audio Feature: Nathan Xavier Osorio (Shō No. 4)
My mother fell in love with the way you cracked / into an urchin.
Audio Feature: Lana Matthews Sain (Shō No. 4)
I smelled like churned earth, breasts bouldered and leaked / through my support bra into my shirt / for days after his deathbirth.
Audio Feature: Eben E. B. Bein (Shō No. 4)
Mom, since we stopped / speaking, I've been searching / for the first word / you gave me.
Audio Feature: Andrew Payton (Shō No. 3)
My father came to this country / through the womb. My mother, too. // Their mothers and their fathers, too. / But somewhere behind them: a crossing.
Audio Feature: Ally Ang (Shō No. 3)
Today, my heart is working / remotely. I watch it thump / and thrum reliably behind / the blur of a computer screen.
Audio Feature: Richard Vargas (Shō No. 4)
i’m drinking coffee and reading an essay / by Tarantino breaking down Scorsese’s decision to / cast Harvey Keitel as the pimp in Taxi Driver
Audio Feature: Nazifa Islam (Shō No. 4)
The sirens—remembering—often sing to me / of my own deathwish.
Audio Feature: Quinton Okoro (Shō No. 4)
how else would i describe it? / somewhere below all of us // i paced the dirt floor of a deep / and airless pit, digging and uncovering // only daylilies tight and green
Audio Feature: Dare Williams (Shō No. 3)
I’m not good at holding / anything real // the glass the weight these night- / blooming jasmine