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cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Carl Phillips
@cphillipspoet.bsky.social
2.9K followers 98 following 130 posts
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Reposted by Carl Phillips
rpinsky.bsky.social
I am proud of this book review in today;s NY Times:

www.nytimes.com/2025/11/16/b...
This 1,200-Page Poetry Book Affirms Seamus Heaney’s Towering Genius
www.nytimes.com
November 16, 2025 at 9:16 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Agreed, Kathy! A mesmerizing poem!
November 6, 2025 at 2:34 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
yalereview.bsky.social
“Ellen taught me to take myself seriously and especially to take poetry seriously, not just the making of it, but how to think and speak about it.”

@cphillipspoet.bsky.social remembers Ellen Bryant Voigt.

yalereview.org/article/trib...
Remembering Ellen Bryant Voigt
Catherine Barnett, Victoria Chang, Meghan O’Rourke, and Carl Phillips remember the poet Ellen Bryant Voigt.
yalereview.org
October 30, 2025 at 3:21 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
I love this
frozenseapoetry.bsky.social Frozen Sea @frozenseapoetry.bsky.social · 24d
What I Would Do To Feel | Ira Goga | Frozen Sea - Issue Ten
October 29, 2025 at 4:36 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
yalereview.bsky.social
Ellen Bryant Voigt—poet and founder of the first low-residency MFA program—transformed American poetry and the way it’s taught. Catherine Barnett, @victoriachang.bsky.social, @cphillipspoet.bsky.social, and @meghanor.bsky.social pay tribute to a singular mentor. yalereview.org/article/trib...
Remembering Ellen Bryant Voigt
Catherine Barnett, Victoria Chang, Meghan O’Rourke, and Carl Phillips remember the poet Ellen Bryant Voigt.
yalereview.org
October 28, 2025 at 5:33 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Thank you so much!
fiftywords.bsky.social Fiftywords @fiftywords.bsky.social · 25d
A haunting meditation on vulnerability and memory, ‘differently dangerous’ is the perfect phrase for our era.
October 28, 2025 at 1:53 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
A new poem in the new issue of Agni @agnimagazine.bsky.social 🫨
October 28, 2025 at 1:44 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
irishali13.bsky.social
In a Field, at Sunset
~ Carl Phillips
When he asked if I still loved him,
I didn't answer.
but of course,
I loved him~
In a Field, at Sunset When he asked if I still loved him, I didn't answer; but of course, I loved him. He'd become, by then, like the rhyme between lost and most.
October 23, 2025 at 11:51 AM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
susanlleary.bsky.social
Carl Phillips 💙
We Turn Here If we don't have to bring honesty into this, why bring it, or that's at least what I think the question was, though what I more remember is how it kept breaking— the question did—the way waves do, touching shore (one, that I shall be punished, two, that this is not yet the punishment), each wave eventually indistinguishable from the wave before.
October 15, 2025 at 11:43 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
tomsnarsky.bsky.social
Carl Phillips @cphillipspoet.bsky.social
I forget what I wanted to mean to you. I forget what I meant to give to you, that I haven’t.
October 8, 2025 at 9:51 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
terrylkennedy.bsky.social
The orchard was on fire, but that didn’t stop him from slowly walking
straight into it, shirtless, you can see where the flames have
foliaged—here, especially—his chest . . .

from "Dirt Being Dirt" by Carl Phillips
buff.ly/oWhB4p1
September 27, 2025 at 4:02 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
adrianf.bsky.social
Charles Simic
CLOUDS GATHERING It seemed the kind of life we wanted. Wild strawberries and cream in the morning. Sunlight in every room. The two of us walking by the sea naked. Some evenings, however, we found ourselves Unsure of what comes next. Like tragic actors in a theater on fire, With birds circling over our heads, The dark pines strangely still, Each rock we stepped on bloodied by the sunset. We were back on our terrace sipping wine. Why always this hint of an unhappy ending? Clouds of almost human appearance Gathering on the horizon, but the rest lovely With the air so mild and the sea untroubled. The night suddenly upon us, a starless night. You lighting a candle, carrying it naked Into our bedroom and blowing it out quickly. The dark pines and grasses strangely still.
September 13, 2025 at 1:14 AM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
September and Friday and nightfall.
September 13, 2025 at 12:09 AM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
readalittlepoem.bsky.social
Today’s poem is selected by Carl Phillips as part of the 20th anniversary of Read A Little Poetry.

It is Linda Gregg's birthday today, September 9th.

"Alma to Her Sister" appeared in Too Bright to See by Linda Gregg, published by Graywolf Press, 1981.
September 9, 2025 at 2:06 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
chembarathi.bsky.social
I look for omens everywhere, because they
are everywhere
to be found. They come to me like strays,
like the damaged,
something that could know better, and should, therefore-but does not: a form of faith, you've said.
- Carl Philips
#Poetry #LiteratureSky 💙📚👀
I look for omens everywhere, because they are everywhere to be found. They come to me like strays, like the damaged, something that could know better, and should, therefore-but does not: a form of faith, you've said. I call it sacrifice -an instinct for it, or a habit at first, becomes required, the way art can become, eventually, all we have that of what was true. -Carl Phillips, from "Custom," The Rest of Love
September 4, 2025 at 8:51 AM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
suzannalundale.bsky.social
"We're individual in our tastes, ambitions, disappointments. We carry inside us our own wildernesses, as particular in their obsessions as they are various in their surprises. These differences give context to the points of likeness between us." - Carl Phillips on community, in My Trade is Mystery
September 3, 2025 at 3:48 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Thx, I forgot to post this myself! From this month’s @austbookreview.bsky.social
September 2, 2025 at 8:50 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
I tend to be pretty quiet here, but here’s a new profile pic…
August 26, 2025 at 11:21 AM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Well, thank you very much!
csilverandgold.bsky.social Le Wokisme? or La Botte? @csilverandgold.bsky.social · Aug 8
Carl Phillips is such a ridiculously good poet. Sheesh.
August 8, 2025 at 7:24 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Beautiful indeed.
dapowell.bsky.social D. A. Powell @dapowell.bsky.social · Jul 29
This beautiful summer poem by Rosalie Moffat.
THE SUMMER THE COLLIES died and were buried beneath fir trees, I had two kinds of apple: red and red-yellow. I had a three-legged aluminum ladder, a bucket, a wasp's nest the size of my fist. I fit between the branches, filled, first my hands and pockets and then the bucket. A wasp with the face of my oldest dog stung me twice. It takes a long time to leave. My father's green bulldozer will break down in the purple-headed thistles some August and then stay and stay there. A tractor outlasts a person. It's never worth it to haul it away. There are monuments, in the country, everywhere. If I talk too often about wasps it's because they're inescapable. They'll be under the hood in no time--here, no emptiness goes uninhabited. I always want to put Christ's heart back in his chest, like returning a jar of jam to the cupboard. I make the bruised apples into sauce, ladle it hot into jars. What is sown as perishable is raised imperishable--a joke I make to myself about the buzzing soul of the bulldozer, existing here on earth long after it's died, as something venomous and intelligent.
July 29, 2025 at 8:36 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Aha! I believe I know the Carl and Doug it’s dedicated to! I was very sorry to have to part with so many beloved books when I retired, but I reminded myself that the passalong world is how new readers find us. Cheers! And here’s to seeing you again soon!
dapowell.bsky.social D. A. Powell @dapowell.bsky.social · Jul 19
Nice to see used copies of my first book floating out there in the passalongs. And in such good condition. A rare find I hope you got it cheap.
querelleofbros.bsky.social 🥊 @querelleofbros.bsky.social · Jul 18
incredible bookstore find and didn’t even realize it’s signed til i got home 🥹
July 19, 2025 at 1:28 AM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
I’m glad you decided to give it another try! Thank you!
monetpatricethomas.bsky.social Monet Patrice Thomas @monetpatricethomas.bsky.social · Jul 12
Today, I picked it up again and started from the beginning and it was like my mind had just need time to adjust because suddenly I could read straight through and even “hear” the poet’s voice. Such a cool moment.
July 12, 2025 at 11:59 AM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
accedimus.bsky.social
Carl Phillips
July 11, 2025 at 1:44 PM
cphillipspoet.bsky.social
Thank you, Phillip!
phillipcrymble.bsky.social phillip crymble @phillipcrymble.bsky.social · Jun 29
is that / not love?

Carl Phillips
WHITE DOG First snow-I release her into it - I know, released, she won't come back. This is different from letting what, already, we count as lost go. It is nothing like that. Also, it is not like wanting to learn what losing a thing we love feels like. Oh yes: I love her. Released, she seems for a moment as if some part of me that, almost, I wouldn't mind understanding better, is that not love? She seems a part of me, and then she seems entirely like what she is: a white dog, less white suddenly, against the snow, who won't come back. I know that; and, knowing it, I release her. It's as if I release her because I know.
June 29, 2025 at 5:32 PM
Reposted by Carl Phillips
brandontsnider.bsky.social
Possibly my favorite summation of Pride
Years ago I was at New York Pride and I remember running into this couple and they told me they drove like five hours to be at Pride and I was like, “Five hours? Why would you drive five hours?” And he said to me, “This is the one time a year and the only place where I can hold my partner’s hand and kiss my partner in the street without having to look around first. It’s the only place. I don’t have that anywhere else.” One time a year. One place. This is it. And that’s what Pride means. - bob the drag queen
June 27, 2025 at 9:18 PM