Audio Feature: Eliana Chow
Listen to Eliana Chow read her poem “Bamboo Girl,” published in Shō No. 3 (Summer/Fall 2023). This poem was nominated for Best Spiritual Literature.
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Established in 2002, revived in 2023

Listen to Eliana Chow read her poem “Bamboo Girl,” published in Shō No. 3 (Summer/Fall 2023). This poem was nominated for Best Spiritual Literature.

To celebrate National Hispanic Heritage Month, we've curated this selection of poems by US-based Shō Poetry Journal contributors. This playlist features audio recordings by Jenna Martínez, Asheley Nova Navarro, Nina C. Peláez (Shō No. 7); Alejandro Lucero (Shō No. 6); Jasmine Khaliq, José Oseguera, Sara Santistevan (Shō No. 5); Faith Gómez Clark, Nathan Xavier Osorio, Laura Villareal (Shō No. 4); and Alfonso Zapata (Shō No. 3).

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.

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.

I think I'm tiring of auditioning. / I'm not dancing for bread anymore.

"I was thinking a lot about human mortality and environmental catastrophe, and how we all are momentary in the world"

“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.”

This poem is part of a larger epistolary exchange, "A Slow Indwelling", with Luke Johnson, and will be published this fall with Harbor Editions.

My father came to this country / through the womb. My mother, too. // Their mothers and their fathers, too. / But somewhere behind them: a crossing.

Today, my heart is working / remotely. I watch it thump / and thrum reliably behind / the blur of a computer screen.

I’m not good at holding / anything real // the glass the weight these night- / blooming jasmine

I share an arm rest / with a stranger who has desires // too.

There is still good meat / on these bones.

I can tell you about strength. / How the sun warms our skins. / How the moon turns tides.

I think I'm tired of auditioning. / I'm not dancing for bread anymore. / I'm not paying your fee.

I split into two and the wolf split into four and we kept dividing
our greatness until I matched the air and the wolf matched the earth

I sling myself up those stairs / with all the other tired men because //
who am I to refuse the slap / of hunched playing cards

Sometimes I forget I came from the Earth / from the rocks, from the spongy moss // was a home for all the squirming, crawling / slippery life that lived under me.