Poet of note Jana Prikryl's poem "Thirty Thousand Islands" was published in the December 22-29 2014 issue of the New Yorker. Its first line is as follows:
"Mr. Dialect pauses on a bluff"
There is also an ad in the magazine with a picture of a guy going like this:
The poem's on page 102. I would also like to point out that a person named Jana Prikryl, who is a poet of note, wrote a poem that appears on page 193 of the Winter 2014 issue of the Paris Review. This poem is called "Thirty Thousand Islands" and its first line is as follows:
"My mind went on composing its account at night,"
I shall celebrate Two Poems One Title Two Magazines season in my way, with a delectable "inversion:" the following is one poem with two titles that appears in one magazine. The magazine I am discussing with you right now is called the Daily Doofus.
"Diansrevni," or "Thirty Thousand Islands"
By my pen name, Snikpoh Yelnam Drareg
That brightsome neap, cowfront taupe,
Her stillstock lowpath murmuring up,
Out beach or out berth, a shaft of her surf
Smooths or high to the hake climbs earth.
The spoutwilt-slipper of sánd-sóg
Stops and steadies under the fog
Of the holm so saltwhite, róse-smíling,
It squares and squares the hope beguiling.
Dried with shell, unpied with shell
Is the floor of the cove that the boats span well,
Tubish kelpclumps, seaweed heap,
Or a dropdreary slag that stands under the neap.
That would a welkin be, twice profuse
Of dry and tameness. Be they of use,
O be they of use, tameness and dry;
Short die the herbs and the brininess nigh.