Poets Ted Kooser and Jim Harrison In Conversation
Baroque is a word that will never spring to mind in connection with Ted Kooser-- instead, plain spoken or direct. But not completely. In addition to the quiet openness of Kooser’s poems are his subtle insights into the vagaries of human activities.
Wrestling with Arda Collins, Part 3: A Look at “Low” and “Pool #13″
In part 3 of this strange and wandering series of posts about the poetry of Arda Collins, I'm going to look more closely at her poem "Low," which first appeared in The New Yorker on June 2, 2008. And then we'll glance quickly at "Pool #13" from her collection It Is Daylight.
Waiting for “Pitch” by Poet Todd Boss
I've been doing a lot of waiting lately-- living out of a suitcase while I travel for work, waiting for the next destination; waiting for my dad to go into isolation in the hospital for a 17-day procedure; waiting and passing the time with him in his room; waiting for various results; waiting to hear...
Making a Film From Nick Flynn’s “Another Bullshit Night in Suck City”
I'm just finishing Nick Flynn's first collection of poems Some Ether, which won the PEN/Joyce Osterweil Award in 2000. The book is incredible, but I'm pacing myself a bit.
Poet Wislawa Szymborska: On Death, Without Exaggeration
Czelaw Milosz told the story of a group of famous Polish poets riding to another poet's funeral, speeding actually, who were stopped by the police. When the officer recognized two of the poets, Milosz himself and Wislawa Symborska,...
Poet Christian Wiman: Given a God More Playful
I've made no secret of my Poetry Foundation fandom. Poetry Off the Shelf is my favorite podcast since the invention of podcasts (with the POETRY Magazine podcast a close 2nd); their website and the Harriet blog are, like, awesome; and I've been reading POETRY pretty religiously for about 4 years.
Poet Louise Glück: LOST LOVE’s Tiny Pendant of Iron
Last week I posted about Yusef Komunyakaa's "Facing It" and the kind of surface sadness we can experience as emotional tourists (or readers of a poem). I said of this feeling: It’s not that kind of deep, inexpressible sadness which pulls like a magnet on the heart throughout a lifetime.
Poet Kim Addonizio & the Intense Beauty of Words
The body and all it’s pleasures, difficulties, and disappointments lives and breathes in her work; not just the body but all our passionate encounters, as well as our physical and psychological maneuverings.
Yusef Komunyakaa Visits the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
I cry easily: at movies -- while listening to records -- I cry occasionally while reading, though the teary eyes make the reading tougher. And perhaps not surprisingly, I cry at places too: Ground Zero, Gettysburg, Nuremberg, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.
A Couple of Horses: Ted Kooser & Maxine Kumin
Before I'd ever read a single word of Maxine Kumin's poetry, she was, in my mind, linked with horses. In the anthology where I first encountered her work, there was a picture of Kumin standing next to a horse and a dog. All the other photos in the anthology were of solitary poets...
Wrestling with Arda Collins, Part 2: “Garden Apartments”
A few weeks ago, I realized that there was something -- strange -- about Arda Collins' It Is Daylight that kept pulling me back in. But her voice was so unlike other poets that I've returned to over the years; it got me wondering-- what exactly do I like about these poems?
Poet Paul Merchant: Not a Time Machine in Sight
The affinities in these poems are sympathies evoked about various poets, and range from the Roman poet Cattulus (1st century B.C.), and Count Borromeo III (from 16th cen. Italy), to the medieval Japanese printmaker Hokusai.
Poet Kenneth Patchen’s Wondrous House
Poems are mentors. From them I have learned things I might never have experienced any other way. This poem, if you look at it very closely is quite unremarkable - a few beautiful images, nice form - but if you look away slightly and don't think about the white bear...
William Matthews’ Suburban Feral Children Roam the Mall
A quick look at Matthews' endearing villanelle about mall-rats and masturbation; and how one man practices memorizing and reciting that poem in public.
Wrestling with Arda Collins, Part 1
The penultimate poem in Arda Collins’ collection It Is Daylight ("The Sky As With Bells, As With Nothing In It”) is an enactment of observation through distancing language: a kind of poetic version of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle.
Happy Holidays from Mark Doty’s community choir & school of mackerel!
Clearly under the spell of pre-Christmas magic, the internet today conspired to land two Mark Doty poems in my lap: "Messiah (Christmas Portions)" and "A Display of Mackerel."
Jabberwocky Talk: Christian Bök Has Fun with Vowels
Children love nonsense songs; Jabberwocky; scat singing; nursery tales; silly words that dance to meter and maybe even rhyme-- Remember? -- That used to be fun stuff!
Kay Ryan: The Ultimate Bathroom Reading
Right now there are two books on my toilet's tank lid-- just in case: the ever-popular What's Your Poo Telling You? (subtly subtitled "LOADS of Facts About Your Health") and some Caroline Kizer translations of Tu Fu.
Hecht, Jarrell, and Wilbur: “We Few, We Happy Few”
As one critic has pointed out, Hecht's power resides in his ability to put atrocity into language and form so beautiful we can't possibly look away.
Lydia Davis and Sarah Manguso go to DEFCON 2!
My friend Felix sent me on a little poetic scavenger hunt that got me thinking about explosives-- in fact, fission bombs (as in: "nu-cu-lar" fission bombs)-- that, and a poem's energetic directionality.
The Subconscious Poetry of Spam Emails
The usual dirty words, catch-phrases, and pharmaceutical brand names are all flagged by spam blockers by now. To get around this, spammers are growing more clever, and more poetic.
Poet James Wright’s Damned Saint
Today is James Wright's birthday- well, at least for the next hour. It got me thinking about that famous line of his from "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota," which concludes: I have wasted my life.
Angela Ball’s Bee-Scout
Mississippi poet Angela Ball spent a semester at the University of Richmond teaching several creative writing courses. This was just after her Museum of the Revolution came out. I read that book enthusiastically two or three times; I thought I loved it, but I couldn't be sure. Was I biased?
John Berryman: small gods, defend The Canon!
Stamp collectors and model train enthusiasts and Magic: The Gathering food court druids are all playing God. The delusion of achievable completeness: That's the collector's obsession. The end goal-- absolute authority over some small chosen demesne, to survey his or her Lionel railroad diorama and say, "I may not be immortal, but I rule this...
A.E. Stallings and the Urge to End It
Have you ever been struck with the notion to drive into oncoming traffic? You sicko! Not me. But every once in a while I have the urge to hurl myself from high places. The most recent time it hit me I was hiking in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps up to Mad King Ludwig’s...
Philip Larkin: “Nothing” is Shocking
When I was a kid, I needed to know poetry spoke my language and dealt with my concerns before I was going to go out on a limb to meet Homer or Dante or Shakespeare halfway. Philip Larkin's "High Windows" was a good starting point. It seemed like it had immediate applications, and... well, immediacy....
