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James Lilliefors

@jameslilliefors.bsky.social

Poet, journalist, novelist. Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee. Poetry chapbook SUDDEN SHADOWS published last fall.

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Rebecca Solnit@rebeccasolnit.bsky.social · last wk.

Protest that endures, I think, is moved by a hope far more modest than that of public success: namely, the hope of preserving qualities in one's own heart and spirit that would be destroyed by acquiescence. Wendell Berry, What Are People For?

James Lilliefors@jameslilliefors.bsky.social · 2mo ago

Pleased to learn that my chapbook manuscript "The Staggering Sum" was selected as runner-up for the 2026 Silent River Poetry Prize and that the book will be published by River Paw Press. Thank you to Kalpna Singh-Chitnis and RPP for selecting my manuscript and for the generous citation!

River Paw Press@riverpawpress.bsky.social · 2mo ago

2026 Silent River Poetry Prize results are out now. Please follow the link to the press release. riverpawpress.com/announcing-t...

Gillian Branstetter@gbbranstetter.bsky.social · 8mo ago

Every New Year's I think of this poem from Marge Piercy: "How much have I dared in opposition? How much have I put on the line for freedom? For mine and others? As these freedoms are pared, sliced and diced, where have I spoken out?"

Poetry Foundation Search Poems & Poets Topics & Themes Features Events & Programs About Us Poetry magazine December 2025 Subscribe The birthday of the world By Marge Piercy On the birthday of the world I begin to contemplate what I have done and left undone, but this year not so much rebuilding of my perennially damaged psyche, shoring up eroding friendships, digging out stumps of old resentments that refuse to rot on their own. No, this year I want to call myself to task for what I have done and not done for peace. How much have I dared in opposition? How much have I put on the line for freedom? For mine and others? As these freedoms are pared, sliced and diced, where have I spoken out? Who have I tried to move? In this holy season, I stand self-convicted of sloth in a time when lies choke the mind and rhetoric bends reason to slithering choking pythons. Here I stand before the gates opening, the fire dazzling my eyes, and as I approach what judges me, I judge myself. Give me weapons of minute destruction. Let my words turn into sparks.Poetry Foundation Search Poems & Poets Topics & Themes Features Events & Programs About Us Poetry magazine December 2025 Subscribe The birthday of the world By Marge Piercy On the birthday of the world I begin to contemplate what I have done and left undone, but this year not so much rebuilding of my perennially damaged psyche, shoring up eroding friendships, digging out stumps of old resentments that refuse to rot on their own. No, this year I want to call myself to task for what I have done and not done for peace. How much have I dared in opposition? How much have I put on the line for freedom? For mine and others? As these freedoms are pared, sliced and diced, where have I spoken out? Who have I tried to move? In this holy season, I stand self-convicted of sloth in a time when lies choke the mind and rhetoric bends reason to slithering choking pythons. Here I stand before the gates opening, the fire dazzling my eyes, and as I approach what judges me, I judge myself. Give me weapons of minute destruction. Let my words turn into sparks.