Maria Nazos

@marianazos.bsky.social

Poems in @newyorker.com. #writer #poet #translator. Order PULSE: https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/distributed/P/bo265676906.html.

Grateful to @robmclennan.bsky.social for a thoughtful review of PULSE in @periodicities.bsky.social. He calls the poems “gestural, but not performative” & says their “fortitude & resolve are certainly evident.” ❤️ Read the whole thing: periodicityjournal.blogspot.com/2026/09/rob-....

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rob mclennan@robmclennan.bsky.social · 4d ago

newly posted at @periodicities.bsky.social : rob mclennan : Pulse, by Maria Nazos / @marianazos.bsky.social @omnidawn.bsky.social ; periodicityjournal.blogspot.com/2026/09/rob-...

Dolly Parton often denied being political, saying stuff like, "I don't do politics." But then, when asked about Black Lives Matter, she responded, “Of course Black lives matter. Do we think our little white asses are the only ones that matter? No!” 😂👊♥️ RIP Dolly.

7 years ago today my wife & I got married on the most beautiful (& maybe also sweatiest) day of my life. every year I reread this Katie Ford poem that was part of our ceremony and I feel lucky & grateful anew for “what I can know and admit to knowing,”—happy anniversary Kristi, I love you so much :)

ALL I EVER WANTED
When I thought it was right to name my desires, what I wanted of life, they seemed to turn like bleating sheep, not to me, who could have been a caring, if unskilled, shepherd, but to the boxed-in hills beyond which the blue mountains sloped down
with poppies orange as crayfish all the way to the Pacific seas in which the hulls of whales steered them in search of a mate for whom they bellowed in a new, highly particular song
we might call the most ardent articulation of love, the pin at the tip of evolution, modestly shining.
In the middle of my life
it was right to say my desires
but they went away. I couldn't even make them out, not even as dots now in the distance.
Yet I see the small lights
of winter campfires in the hills-teenagers in love often go there for their first nights—and each yellow-white glow tells me what I can know and admit to knowing, that all I ever wanted
was to sit by a fire with someone
who wanted me in measure the same to my wanting.
To want to make a fire with someone, with you, was all.

Wile E. Coyote, despaired, takes a bucket of paint and a brush and paints a beautiful two-bedroom house on a mountainside. He paints a beautiful coyote wife in the window, and two adorable coyote kids running around in the yard. He tries to enter this new coyote life, but it is inaccessible to him