The New Yorker: Poetry is built around a simple exchange. Kevin Young, poetry editor of The New Yorker magazine, invites a poet to choose a poem from the magazine's archive, read it and discuss it. Then the guest reads one of their own poems that has appeared in the magazine. That is the whole frame. What fills it is close reading at a patient pace. In the Maya C. Popa episode, Artless by Brenda Shaughnessy is praised for being funny and sonically rich while still making a lyric argument about the heart. That is a rare combination, and the episode treats it as one. Popa then reads her own The World Was All Before Them, whose title owes a debt to Milton, and the talk turns to Eden, choice, and the risk of inventing the person one loves. The Adrian Matejka episode starts from C.D. Wright and moves to his own poem Almost Home, in which Bob Kaufman and Indianapolis share the frame. That leads to a question of form: why write one long stanza, and what changes when tercets or couplets open space between the words? These episodes reward attention to that kind of detail. In the April Bernard episode, John Ashbery's resistance to paraphrase becomes the point, and difficulty is cast as a source of pleasure. Bernard's own poem leads somewhere stranger, into liner notes for operas that were made up. The Jericho Brown episode pairs Elizabeth Alexander's When with his own poem Colosseum and floats the idea that every poem is a love poem. It also explains why the word gladiator survived revision. The Rae Armantrout episode reads Dorothea Lasky's Mother as a riddle and her own poem Finally as a story half erased by its own negatives, with humor running through the latter. A 2025 episode breaks the usual pattern. In it, Young and Deborah Garrison, an editor at Knopf, discuss the magazine's centenary poetry anthology, spanning 1925 to 2025, passing through Langston Hughes, W.S. Merwin, Nikki Giovanni, Louise Bogan and Ada Limon. The guests who appear in that centenary year also appear in the anthology. Across the run of titles, the reach is wide: Carolyn Forché reading Mahmoud Darwish, Erika Meitner reading Philip Levine, Henri Cole reading Louise Glück, and Elizabeth Bishop chosen more than once. Grief and love both pass through the room. Neither is handled with fanfare. The praise is precise, and the listener is trusted to keep up.