“Ballast,” forthcoming Calamaro
“The Arrival of Metal Changes Everything” Anthropoid
“Sugar in Space” Nassau Review
“Isaac Newton Waits Out the Plague” Little Patuxent Review
“A Catalog of What We’re Not Meant to See” Heron Tree
“Wilson’s Warbler” Heron Tree
“Begin” Cider Press Review
“Eve Paints the Apple Tree” Cider Press Review
“After Seven Months, Alaskans Begin to Bury Their Dead” Comstock Review
“The Mier Expedition: Drawing of the Black Bean by Frederic Remington (1896)” Borderlands
“I Hate Darwin” Sow’s Ear Poetry Review
“On Reading About the Illness and Death of Darwin’s Daughter, Annie” Ecotone
“The Birth of Superstition” Ellipsis, Poetry Foundation
“Correction” Cider Press Review *Pushcart Prize nominated poem
“Pre-Op” The Comstock Review
“The Second Son” The Comstock Review
“How to Speak Nineteenth Century” New England Review
“At Forty” The Chattahoochee Review, Poetry Foundation
“Miscarriage” The Chattahoochee Review
“Horse Latitudes” Southern Poetry Review
“Still Life” Cider Press Review
“How to Move Away” Cider Press Review, Poetry Foundation
“The Infinite Density of Grief” The Comstock Review
“The Sterility of Numbers” The Comstock Review
“The Rift” The Comstock Review
“Why We Speak English” by Lynn Pedersen featured on NPR’s The Writers’ Almanac, March 31, 2009
“The Quick of Things” featured on KSFR 101.1 FM, Audio Saucepan, Santa Fe Public Radio, September 4, 2016
“A Brief History of the Passenger Pigeon” and “Something About Darwin” [Ex]tinguished and [Ex]tinct, an Anthology of Things That No Longer [Ex]ist
“Platypus:Hoax” Other Countries: Poets Rewiring History
“Why We Speak English” Stone, River, Sky: Georgia Poetry Anthology, Negative Capability Press
“The Rift,” “How to Speak Nineteenth Century,” “How to Move Away,” “At Forty,” and “My Grandmother Peels Apples for Sauce” Weatherings ,Future Cycle Press
Poetry Foundation Poem of the Day
Also featured on Poetry Foundation:
How to Speak Nineteenth Century
Forget about the nomenclature
of the moon: lunar impact craters, rilles; your voice
translated into fiber optics or beamed pinpoint to pinpoint
on the planet. Here, all words are spoken to someone’s face.
Earth. Seeds. Thresher. Plow. Timber’d.
So unnerving, you say,
having to look someone that long in the eye, just speaking
your mind. Or too involved, in the first place,
the five-mile walk to your friend’s house,
your skirt catching on the field grass.
You need to know not hydrogen, oxygen, H2O, but
water: where to find it, how to dig
for it, how to ford it, how to keep a well from running dry.
Not chlorophyll and photosynthesis,
the word is harvest–the hard “t”
uncompromising as hunger–
sunup and sundown, light.
Forget meteorology, you need to know
bird migration, insect hatches, animal hibernation–
what the falling leaves tell you.
When the blossoms of the apple tree fall, plant corn. In short,
the world is still whole to you.
Each molecule. Each syllable. Each grain.
Published in New England Review
and in Theories of Rain (chapbook)
The Nomenclature of Small Things (full-length collection)
A videopoem of “How to Speak Nineteenth Century” by Claire Trevien
No movement, and what’s worse: I’m miles
from water. I wake each morning and take my place
on the X. The sheers at the window
flags of surrender.
Who ever heard of a song with no notes, all rests?
I’ve only now come to accept my position-
a kind of metaphysical widow’s walk,
perch from which I strain for the tip of a sail,
a measure of breeze.
Published in Southern Poetry Review
and in Theories of Rain