Composer Mara Gibson’s settings of my poems for mezzo and saxophone and mezzo and bassoon premiered at Louisiana State University April 1 and April 7th.

My  poem in response to artist Kadie Salfi’s work  will be exhibited as part of the show  F213 at the Arc Gallery in San Francisco, opening April 13th.

US Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith talks about one of my poems on her daily poetry podcast The Slowdown in an episode recorded live at the On Air Fest in Brooklyn: it airs 3/18/19. You can download/stream/follow the podcast here anytime (or listen to/stream it live on certain NPR stations, like Toledo’s WGTE, 9 am EST Monday!)

I’ll be leading a poetry workshop at the Krouna Writing Workshops in Greece this summer.

New poems are in the world:  “Red-tailed Hawk” in the Autumn 2018 issue of Orion and  The Girlfriend Elegies in The New Yorker.

Art Song:  La Caccina Women’s Vocal Ensemble performs composer Eric Malmquist’s setting of “For the Sin of Bossiness,” a poem from Little Murders Everywhere.


CSPAN:  Bullets into Bells: Poets & Citizens Respond to Gun Violence 
The New Yorker’s “2017: Our Year in Poems”
Kingsley and Kate Tufts Spotlight: Cross-Collaboration of Poetry
The Guardian
Best American Poetry blog


Chicago Review of Books
AWP Writers’ Chronicle
Poetry Society of America
Habit and Space Interview
The Cloudy House Interview
Front Porch Journal
American Microreviews


Publishers Weekly , Sometimes We’re All Living in a Foreign Country
The Clarion Ledger ,  The Spokes of Venus
Gulf Coast,  The Spokes of Venus
Tottenville ReviewLittle Murders Everywhere

About Work in Progress

“ [We’ll Never Get Back to Zamboanga] as it interrogates with inventive specificity a group of individual histories, in this case, Filipino Americans during World War II and after, also adds an eloquent voice to a world poetry (as exemplified in different ways by Rukeyser, by Nelly Sachs, by Darwish) of displacement, of an experience of exile that can be internal, of the human realities and costs of war.  There is no question in reading these texts that one is being guided through these landscapes by a poet as sure in craft as in historical vision, giving the reader the pleasure of this virtuoso reach, lyricism, control, while investigating (in the poet’s own words) “the consistently manipulated dividing lines of culture and power.” –Marilyn Hacker, for the Poetry Society of America Alice Fay di Castagnola Award for a manuscript-in-progress

About Sometimes We’re All Living in a Foreign Country

“Frank (The Spokes of Venus), spellbinds in this shrewd collection about intimacy, salvation, and the rustic dilapidation of the American South. She writes as a curious survivor of hardship and loss with a newfound sense of wonderment in her surroundings: “I thought I knew a little about small southern towns—/ what it meant to leave to live./ Now every direction takes me to a foreign land.”  Publishers Weekly

There’s something tenacious and fierce about this vivid book, with its spinning, Metaphysical metaphors, quick turns of line, and unpredictable, dynamic, monologues in the voices of dispossessed people and things. In this poet’s hands, form means trying anything you can. Sometimes We’re All Living in a Foreign Country’s pages teem with a yearning for change. They live by their nerve in that ghostly small town our vast America can become inside a poem. But Rebecca Morgan Frank does more than withstand her own disorientation in the country she finds she must look at and try to see – she turns it into radar, second sight, an inestimable sixth sense, joining that home-grown company of visionary dissenters (I think of James Wright, or even Larry Levis) who have done the same. – Katie Peterson

A wind-blown straw slices through a telephone pole.  Ranch houses tip and fall like rows of dominos.  Trains rumble through a sleeping woman’s dreams. And somewhere, a twirling ballerina figurine longs to explore the world beyond her music box. So much happens in Morgan Frank’s intensely lyrical poems, accompanied by such subtle music and profound, often witty, meditations on love, loneliness, rapture and mortality.  Sometimes We’re all Living in a Foreign Country is a beautiful book, one that asks us to see the everyday world anew, and discover in it marvelous strangeness.– Kevin Prufer

About Little Murders Everywhere

In Rebecca Morgan Frank’s remarkable first book, the line that launches a story about feeding an injured raptor morphs hauntingly into ars poetica: “I was the dark room, the leather glove, the rope” . . . . Captured in this parable are both the ruthless devotion to beauty and the yet-more-ruthless devotion to clear-eyed rendering that make Little Murders Everywhere an extraordinary debut.  The elegant formal variations in these poems, the structuring alliterations, the density and precision of the figurative imagination would almost suffice on their own but, wonderfully, they have no need to do so.  They add up, as in all true poetry, to a way of seeing.” –Linda Gregerson

“Rebecca Morgan Frank’s arresting and unflinching poems show what can still be done with the bittersweet stuff of longing that gave the art of the lyric its original reason for being. Everywhere she turns her rapt attention – pensive elegies and laments, gnomic riffs on things lost and found in the naked city, limber sonnets on nettling sins of the spirit and the flesh – she’s in her element, taking the measure of desire in language honed to a glittering edge. “Go ahead, reinvent the wheel,” one mordant poem here begins, and so she does, daring you to see another soul at the white heat with a mind and music all her own.” –David Barber

About The Spokes of Venus

“I don’t think I’ve read a book as unapologetically metaphysical as The Spokes of Venus since Heather McHugh’s early work.   One feels everywhere in these poems the force of Morgan Frank’s insistent looking, tensile, witty, fiercely cool in its appraisals: “The truth is that there’s nothing in the room but us.”  Right, there we are—dead center.  Frank gets it, totally: the centripetal forces that whirl us there are awesome.”   –David Rivard

“The gorgeously made poems in The Spokes of Venus suggest the self-reflexivity of the beholder and the nuances of perception: the slippage between object and viewer — whether the site of scrutiny is planet or painting. . . . Whether the object is painting or dance, installations or music, Frank’s elegant, cerebral poems evoke all the senses in richly condensed lines: a syntax that fibrillates with radiant linguistic spokes — insights so fresh that that one can’t help but be amazed and instructed. . . .Ekphrastic art should enrich or extend the work it considers: “A god can see something / that does not yet exist in the world.” Rebecca Morgan Frank’s poems have just that visionary freshness and strength: they share the power of all startlingly beautiful things.   –Alice Fulton