Pride Month Playlist 2025
Twelve tracks to celebrate Pride Month by contributors to Shō Poetry Journal.
submissions are open
Established in 2002, revived in 2023
Twelve tracks to celebrate Pride Month by contributors to Shō Poetry Journal.
To celebrate Asian/Pacific heritage month, we’ve curated this selection of poems that give voice to Asian American experiences centered around inheritance, history, memory, and belonging.
This roundup features poems and audio recordings by Ally Ang, Monica Kim, Arah Ko, Vannida S. Kol, Sati Mookherjee, Jessica Nirvana Ram, Eylie Sasajima, Jeddie Sophronius, Sophia Terazawa, Elise Thi Tran, Bunkong Tuon, and MT Vallarta. These poems first appeared in Shō No. 3, Shō No. 4, Shō No. 5, and Shō No. 6.
Listen to Jose Oseguera read “Ode to the Foreskin” from Shō No. 5 (Summer 2024). About this poem: In this poem, I meditate on the foreskin as a symbol of fragility, ancestral protection, and the body’s first encounter with violence—an aspect of male vulnerability that I feel is often hidden or dismissed in society. Inspired …
In honor of Women's History Month, read this selection of poems by Sage Ravenwood, Gabriela Bittencourt dos Santos, Kuhu Joshi, Tianna Bratcher, Ari B. Cofer, and Dorsey Craft. These poems were published in Shō No. 4, Shō No. 5, and Shō No. 6.
Listen to Cortney Lamar Charleston read “It’s Important I Remember That Even Beyoncé Got Cheated On—” from Shō No. 5 (Summer 2024). About this poem: Despite its seeding in popular culture, this poem is part of a larger project concerned with the ascent of fascism and, resultingly, how rips in our relationships limit our ability …
Listen to poems by Jae Nichelle, Saida Agostini, Ellen June Wright, Corey Baron, Mckendy Fils-Aimé, Erica Dawson, and Elontra Hall. These poems appeared in Shō No. 5 and Shō No. 6.
Something heavy lingers in the lines
/ of her cheeks and bags under her eyes. // No matter how she tries, she can't smile, / even as she offers us voluptuous, pink peonies.
You are what you eat. Your every sinew / born from the tomb of history: liver, / kidney, lungs, brain. Heart. Red as a cow's / tongue flicking
His body glistens from / etching pebbled leather / into his skin. My brother, // practicing his jump shot— / its gather, lift and release / reminds me of a samurai
praise: for the sisters putting on rubber suits for each other / praise: for preparing the day’s catch with soy sauce & pan-fried onions
How quickly we adapt, water carving / a vein in earth.
Rolling fields kiss the edges of town, farmland / lying flat and fallow like the rest of us.
There's a certain surrender / to being an optimist—one which begins / with the day but, in fact, begins // with the evening.
a name is a pillar. a name is a post.
as abecedarian. Beehive. Corner cabinet, desk / detritus. Earthshine. Faultline. As gristle and gall.
I’m more broken than I’ve ever been. / This shell of a body, emptied / and longing.
The last night with my mother, I blinded like a snake in the blue, /
shed the skin of daughter and switched roles
we stumble through a forest / of awkward silences, careful not to touch // the brambles.
I can think of a few things more entrenched, / like language, syllables strung together // in a lilt
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?
The days have been heavy lately, /
an albatross on each shoulder