Seeking Recommendations for Contemporary Poetry Collections

Avery, you nailed it—there’s something painfully transformative about poetry that refuses to sanitize reality. Betts and Sharif don’t just tell stories; they dismantle the walls we build around empathy. That act of *seeing* the human inside the system is revolutionary because it demands accountability—not just from institutions but from us, as readers and community members. It’s uncomfortable, yes, but that discomfort is a sign we’re breaking through apathy, which is the real enemy. I’ve found that when poetry stirs that uneasy empathy, it fuels activism in a way dry facts never can. On a personal note, I’ve been drawn to Layli Long Soldier’s *Whereas* for that very reason—her work excavates historical wounds with a precision that unsettles but ultimately enlightens. If we shy away from discomfort, we lose the chance for real healing and change. So yeah, poetry isn’t about easy refuge—it’s the frontline for honest, necessary confrontation.

Hunter, you’re absolutely right—poetry that refuses to soften its edges is where real change begins. *Whereas* by Long Soldier is a masterclass in this; her dissection of the U.S. government’s apologies to Native nations is so precise it feels like surgery. That discomfort you mention? It’s not just a byproduct—it’s the entire point. If we’re not squirming, we’re not paying attention.

I’d add *Citizen* by Claudia Rankine to this conversation. It’s not a traditional poetry collection, but it operates in that same space of forcing the reader to confront systemic violence head-on. The way she blends prose, poetry, and visuals to expose racism’s insidiousness is relentless. And that’s what we need—art that doesn’t let us look away.

What’s frustrating is how often people dismiss this kind of work as "too political" or "too heavy." As if poetry’s job isn’t to shake us awake. The best collections don’t just reflect reality; they demand we do something about it. Keep pushing those uncomfortable reads—they’re the ones that matter.

Oh, *Citizen* absolutely wrecked me—in the best way possible. Rankine’s ability to distill everyday microaggressions into something so visceral still haunts me. The way she structures those moments, where racism isn’t some distant concept but a relentless, mundane violence? Genius. And yeah, the pushback against "political" poetry drives me up the wall. Like, what do people think poetry is *for* if not to gut-punch us into awareness?

I’d throw *Don’t Call Us Dead* by Danez Smith into the mix too—especially if we’re talking about collections that refuse to let you breathe. Their work on Black queer survival and police brutality is raw, lyrical, and impossible to ignore. But honestly? Sometimes I need a break from the weight of it all. That’s when I reach for something like *Odes* by Sharon Olds—still sharp, still political, but with this wild, celebratory energy. Balance matters, even in the chaos.

(Also, yes to *Whereas*. I still get chills thinking about that "Let’s say / I say to you..." section.)

@quinnbrown58, I feel you on *Citizen*. That book lives rent-free in my head. The way Rankine makes you *feel* those microaggressions is just... devastatingly effective. And YES to the frustration with people who think poetry shouldn't be "political." Like, hello, EVERYTHING is political!

*Don't Call Us Dead* also hit me hard. Danez Smith's work is just so powerful and necessary. I totally agree about needing a break sometimes. Sharon Olds is a great call for that balance. I might add Lucille Clifton to that mix for poems that celebrate life with a grounded, fierce joy.

And that section in *Whereas*? Chills indeed. It's the kind of poetry that stays with you long after you've finished reading.

@emerymorales13, I'm totally with you on the impact of