Contributions
- Three Poems by Alexandra Meyer
Read five poems by Alexandra Meyer, our fourth of seven biweekly poets of the Summer 2025 issue, along with a few words about his poetry.
About the Contributor
Alexandra Meyer is a poet from Wichita, Kansas. Her writing is shaped by growing up in a female-dominated household with four sisters, Kansas wildlife, and the conversations around her. She studied English at the University of Kansas and continues to write while holding free writing classes for her community.
Contributor Q & A
Can you tell our readers a little about yourself?
I am a recent graduate from the University of Kansas, and I am falling back in love with the state where I grew up. I always took Kansas for granted and even resented it a little growing up. I thought there was nothing here; nothing to do, see, or experience. Leaving Wichita and exploring the state more has taught me the exact opposite. Along with writing, I work in restaurants, which has really exposed me to the richness of Kansas. I love getting to speak with those who were born and bred here and those who have fallen in love with Kansas after moving. It is a beautiful, flawed, complex state, and I appreciate every day I get to spend in it.
How long have you been a writer and how did you get started?
I was a very dramatic little kid. I would often embellish stories for the effect it would have on my listeners. When I was little, this was very apparent; sometimes I think it still is. This dramatic flair found its way onto the page as I grew up, and it became less socially acceptable to wain on and on about one topic. The oral origins of my storytelling definitely find their way into my poetry. I struggle with dyslexia, and I often hear my poems or stories before they find their home in print. It can be an odd parallel when I can hear the whole work sing in my mind while my hands hover over the keyboard because I cannot spell certain words. Writing now has become a practice of patience for myself and my art. This publication is my first! I am excited to see what comes next.
What’s an accomplishment in your writing life that you’re proud of and what do you still hope to achieve?
I am really proud that my poetry was the first of my work to be picked up by a publication. I have been submitting short stories for a much longer time and sit upon a pile of rejections. I turned to poetry after being burnt out from writing so much fiction. I never thought that it would be a medium I would expand upon, but I found it very freeing. I could talk about what I really wanted to in a way that fiction does not allow. I am so happy that it has reached a larger audience. A main goal of mine is to create a larger poetry collection for publication. I have a lot of ideas about what will be next, but I want to see how far poetry will allow me to go and tell my stories. I also want to work on a collection of flash stories. I feel like flash fiction is a blurred offshoot of prose poetry, and I love how the two connect.
What do you look for in a book? Who are your favorite writers?
In poetry, I look for really physical descriptions and lots of movement. I absolutely love Mary Oliver and Morgan Parker for their very specific outlooks on life and lived experiences. In novels, I look for complex family dynamics, my favorite being Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeline Thien. This novel is poetry. It pulls you in with the first line and never lets you go. I usually recommend works (both poetry and prose) that take my hand and pull me into a world I have never experienced before. I love writing from authors who center their experiences and pull dynamic stories from their lives, culture, and history.
Contents
Chapbook Poem: The Blessed Knot by Li-Young Lee
“A well-made poem is a knot, but not a tangle. The well-made knot of a poem can disentangle readers from illusion, to free them from confusion. Poetry is a form of disillusionment.” Read the July Chapbook Poem by Li-Young Lee along with words from the poet.
“This work is an archive of my attempts to become more familiar with who I am, and why I am here, to immerse myself in these ancient spiritual questions…” Check out five poems and five images by Laynie Browne along with a few words from the poet.
Book Excerpt: Creating Space by Lisa Sewell
“Yoga, the walks, and the writing became a daily exercise in paying attention—to the world, to the bodies in the world around me and to my own body…” Read the Excerpt Poem of the Month for July 2025 by Lisa Sewell along with words from the poet.
“My poetry tries to examine … the difference between the lives we live inside ourselves and the lives we expose to other people.” Read five poems by William Doreski along with a few words from the poet.
July ’25: Poetry Readers Wanted
Read a note from editor Aiden Hunt about PCR’s Summer poetry and new poetry reader opportunities brought by our growing original poetry submissions.
Four Poems by allison whittenberg
“I grew up as a film buff and I loved reading Hollywood Babylon. Over the years, I have learned to separate the truth from the myths.” Read four poems by allison whittenberg along with a few words from the poet.
Chapbook Poem: August Peaches by Winshen Liu
“I wanted to sit with a particular end-of-summer indulgence, where a host has saved specialty foods to welcome visiting friends and family–fancy chocolate, favorite sodas, a certain snack.” Read a poem from Winshen Liu’s chapbook Paper Money along with words from the poet.
Book Excerpt: Cheesecake Factory by Max McDonough
“This poem lives in the weirdness of the suburban mall spaces a lot of us grew up visiting (or loitering in!), places that feel like they could be anywhere and nowhere at once.” Read a poem from Max McDonough’s chapbook along with words from the poet.
Three Poems by Alexandra Meyer
“Love had made me stronger in a lot of ways, but also showed me the weakest parts of myself that were left crystallized for him to see. This was much like wood morphing into rock during the petrification process.” Read three poems by Alexandra Meyer along with words from the poet.
Three Poems by Kristiane Weeks-Rogers
“Anchored by sensory detail, the poem journeys between childhood safety and adult experience in a canyon town shaped by rivers and monsoons. … This poem is a meditation on time, tastes, and tenderness of memory.” Read three poems by Kristiane Weeks-Rogers along with words from the poet.
Chapbook Poem: The Seventh Age of Shakespeare’s Father by Scott LaMascus
“This poem hit me hard last winter, sitting a moment near my late father, as our family was trying to absorb the meaning of his ALS diagnosis … I wondered, if ‘all the world’s a stage,’ what role had I just been assigned?” Read the featured Chapbook Poem of the Month for September 2025 along with words from the poet.
Book Excerpt: Landscape with footprints in ash by Selma Asotić
“When I want to sound smart, I say things like: a poet is one who leaves. When I accept that I’m not very smart, mostly just perplexed and a little scared, I write poems about ghosts and circle farms.” Read a poem from Asotić’s new book, Say Fire, along with words from the poet.
“All of my encounters with the U.S. healthcare system follow the protocols of the ridiculous. This poem, couched in the conventions of the contemporary sonnet, explores my latest, decisive encounter with a doctor’s office.” Read three poems by Robin Arble along with words from the poet.
September ’25: Best of the Net Nominations
Editor Aiden Hunt announces Philly Chapbook Review’s Best of the Net 2026 anthology nominations in this editor’s note and provides links to the nominated poems.
Verses of Mourning: in the aftermath by Jessica Nirvana Ram
“[Ram] presents a revealing and heartbreaking collection that asks the reader to think about what they remember the most about those they have lost.” Read Alex Carrigan’s full review.
“This poem reckons with our capitalist, product-driven society to ask people why disabled stories are only relevant if they portray the ‘other’ overcoming trauma to become abled people’s inspiration porn.” Read three poems by Makena Metz along with words from the poet.