Dana Levin

Dana Levin

Dana Levin is the author of four books of poetry, most recently Banana Palace (Copper Canyon Press, 2016), which was a finalist for the Rilke Prize. She serves as Distinguished Writer in Residence at Maryville University in Saint Louis.

May/June 2018

Two Autumns, Saint Louis

By Dana Levin

Now do you know where you are?    —C. D. Wright Calvary Cemetery Driving up Union to get there, all the yard signs saying, We Must Stop Killing Each Other— A […]

Fall 2008

Zozo-ji

By Dana Levin

Buddhist temple, Tokyo     One cry from a lone bird over a misted river is the expression of grief,     in Japanese. Let women do what they need.     And afterward knit a […]

Winter 2004

Techno

By Dana Levin

I was tracking the stars through the open truck window,        my friend speeding the roads through the black country— and I was thinking how the songs coming from the radio […]

Winter 2004

Suttee

By Dana Levin

Cars oiling slowly through the rich grid of the Basin. White, red, the chaining hemoglobes, from the ridge    you watched them, their shhh and wahhh    wafting up through the canyon, […]

Winter 2004

The Washing

By Dana Levin

Everyone’s got their massacre site just around the corner.—Jim Landale, Hague Spokesman, Kosovo 1. In the mirror, open your mouth. Press down on your tongue and say Ahh. Ah. Red […]

Zozo-ji

By Dana Levin

Buddhist temple, Tokyo             One cry from a lone bird over a misted river is the expression of grief,             in Japanese. Let women do what they need.             And afterward knit a […]

weekend-readsFive Skull Diadem

By Dana Levin

at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art 1 Because           you believe in your skin, you must           elect the knife.           Peel the hair, the scalp-skin down.           Bow to the fruit-bearing […]