During this uncertain time, we are 100% delighted to launch Issue 26! 

Along with the decadent poems and gorgeous artwork included in this issue, we send our fervent wishes for a safer, brighter future. In the meantime, we’re looking for new ways to love what we already have and new ways to appreciate what we’ve never noticed before.

By way of an introduction, please enjoy Radar’s first-ever poetry mixtape. The following mashup features 10 lines from loved poems, selected by our co-editors. You can read these lines as a found poem and then click each link to enjoy each poem in its original form. Consider this our new way to love...

The Poetry of earth is never dead: 

You must hold your quiet center,/ where you do what only you can do.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,/ you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Why are so many people being killed/ Why am I not/ What is in this countryside night that allows me to survive?

Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.

To thee the Spring shall be a triple morn.

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,/ And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

Here's a new green vein, another/ clutch to take, give, a handful of seconds.

Patient, plodding, a green skin/ growing over whatever winter did to us, a return/ to the strange idea of continuous living despite/ the mess of us, the hurt, the empty.

(Lines from John Keats, Ha Jin, Naomi Shihab Nye, Joy Harjo, Leela Chantrelle, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Sara Teasdale, Dora Malech, and Ada Limón).

—Dara-Lyn Shrager and Rachel Marie Patterson, Editors

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