The Archive

In The Kenyon Review‘s newly digitized archive, you’ll find works by Nobel laureates, Pulitzer Prize winners, and more, going back to the journal’s founding in 1939.

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Archive
Selections

Piano Practice

By Derek Walcott

for Mark Strand   April, in another fortnight, metropolitan April. Light rain-gauze across the museum’s entrance, like their eyes when they leave you, equivocating Spring! The sun dries the avenue’s […]

A Glass-Ribbed Nest

Kenyon Review logo By Marianne Moore

 For authorities whose hopesare shaped by mercenaries? Writers entrapped by teatime fame and bycommuters’ comforts? Not for these the paper nautilusconstructs her thin glass shell.  Giving her perishablesouvenir of hope, a dull white outside […]

Nobel Prize Winners

Dream of Lust

By Louise Glück

After one of those nights, a day: the mind dutiful, waking, putting on its slippers, and the spirit restive, muttering I’d rather, I’d rather— Where did it come from, so […]

Piano Practice

By Derek Walcott

for Mark Strand   April, in another fortnight, metropolitan April. Light rain-gauze across the museum’s entrance, like their eyes when they leave you, equivocating Spring! The sun dries the avenue’s […]

From the Archives

Themed selections from The Kenyon Review’s archive, selected by the editorial team.

Off-Kilter Fiction

Summer 2014

Moon, Moon, My Honey

By Kellie Wells

My husband was in charge of the Nightly Improbable Joke, broadcast punctually every evening at 10:05 p.m., the world’s appetite for improbability peaking, he calculated, just before bedtime. One night […]

Winter 2005

Riddle

By Robert Coover

It is the lieutenant’s first execution. Five men are to die by firing squad, and his company has drawn the assignment. He does not look forward to it, but he […]

Editors’ Picks

Still not sure where to start in the Archive? Check out these selections from The Kenyon Review editorial staff.

Summer 1994

Our Lady

By Carl Phillips

In the final hour, our lady—Of the electric rosary, Of the highway, by then Of the snows mostly—was the man he’d always been really, though, yes, we’d sometimes forgotten. Still, […]

Winter 1993

Central Standard Time

By Kevin Young

Down below, everywhere, allthe black skycaps have disappearedsince last time, last time being always,or at least your childhood of air. Gonelike that. At the curb, a mother overtips the new […]

Fall 1992

Slaves

By Reginald Shepherd

These are the years of the empty hands. And what were those just past, swift with the flash of alloyed hulls but carrying no cargo? Outside our lives, my mythical […]

Spring 1991

History Lessons

By Yusef Komunyakaa

1 Squinting up at leafy sunlight, I stepped back & shaded my eyes, but couldn’t see what she pointed to. The courthouse lawn where the lone poplar stood Was almost […]

Fall 1989

Agnus Dei

By Philip Levine

My little sister created the Lamb of God. She made him out of used-up dust mops and coat hangers. She left him whitewashed at the entrance to the Calvin Coolidge […]

Summer 1984

Lulu’s Boys

By Louise Erdrich

On the last day that Lulu Lamartine spent as Henry’s widow, her boys were outside drinking beers and shooting plastic jugs. Her deceased husband’s brother, Beverly, was sitting across from […]

Autumn 1960

The Colossus

By Sylvia Plath

I shall never get you put together entirely, Pieced, glued, and properly jointed. Mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles Proceed from your great lips. It’s worse than a barnyard. Perhaps you […]

Summer 1953

Two Recent Travelers

By Elizabeth Hardwick

Ataturk in bumpy stone or marble, a seated pose, bitterly earned pomposity, a sort of athlete-deputy from the East; or reckless on horseback in the new squares, streaky, brigandish, a […]

Spring 1946

My Sisters, O My Sisters

By May Sarton

              I      ”Nous qui voulions poser, image ineffaceable      Comme un delta divin notre main sur le sable”                —Anna de Noailles Dorothy Wordsworth, dying, did not want to read, “I am too busy […]

Winter 1945

The Lovers

By John Berryman

He used to come to see us one summer when we lived on the Island. As I reached the corner of the house wheeling my bicycle, which I was not […]

Spring 1940

For an Emigrant

By Randall Jarrell

I In that bad year and city of your birthThey traded bread for bank-notes weight for weight,And nothing but the statues kept the smileThe waltzers wore once: excluding, innocent,The face […]

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