I have contemplated my half-toothless grin in the mirror / and compared it, favorably, to a baboon’s butt
In this life, I should have been most happy. Nary a care in the world, save for the constant pressure of having to marry the need for a mate with a tune.
Tonight the cicadas are deafening. / Nothing to do but lean into despair / the way one leans into a mirror.
In a series of moving elegies, Richard Jackson remembers four friends who died in the past year: Tomaž Šalamun, Tomas Tranströmer, James Tate, and Aleš Debeljak
Twenty five years ago, when I was still just learning how to write a poem, and trying to locate the deeper sources for the poetry I wanted to write, Thomas McGrath’s example stood as a sign post. Here was a poet who could write any kind of poem he wanted ...
Usually when poetry turns to the individual and the spirit, it includes love, but Massey lacks even this. There are no accounts of relationships, no “I love her” and “she loves me”. But many other types of relationships are described ...
"To Disturb Profoundly the Senses" is a deconstructed appropriation of material from the so-called "Torture Memos" penned by the Bush Six at the Office of Legal Counsel
What’s the first thing you do / in a house you suspect haunted? / You sing.
Definitely, [the one thing that can save America] is not a thing that can be found and grasped or a message to be sent and read. It is more of a process that we can enjoy in all its inconclusiveness."