Other than Eratosphere, I read almost nothing but Renaissance poetry these days. So in terms of new, Mark McDonnell's "Vinyl" in Metrical is certainly one of the best poems I've read in a long while (though I agree with Julie that Jan's "Bastardry" is a real corker too).
But even though it's a famous poem that most of you already know, and has been lauded for centuries, I often find myself thinking about the beautiful strangeness of George Herbert's "Love (III)":
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
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