We seem to find ourselves, as writers, standing amidst the last century’s discarded tropes of sexual identity. Recently, writers of all sexual permutations have been recycling this narrative architecture; reworking its stones and walls and windows; borrowing and transforming the old, four-square structures of identity into Gehry-like fantasias, curves, and spires.
Posts Tagged: The Boston Review
Little sleeve, Is this really what we call saving?
Across an ocean drones are banqueting
as bees as bombs in bridal arrangements
& we call this progress. The satellites are monitoring
our devolving. Little sleeve, How does love appear
in no gravity?
For the Boston Review, Jericho Brown shares why he identifies with poetry and what it means to find “joy” in the writing process:
I love writing because it is the moment at which I am at once both completely present (paying close attention to my own thinking) and completely absent (as the language for that thinking flows through me).
If you are among those who fantasize about secret messages in the public world—love letters in Burger King wrappers and Narnia entrances in gym lockers—then geocaching, or at least an essay about geocaching, might be just for you. Matthew Fishbane writes in The Boston Review on the ways that geogaching makes him see things he otherwise might miss:
Caches are secret little Pynchonesque way stations; non-players are referred to as “Muggles,” the term in the Harry Potter series for characters unfamiliar with the magical world that exists beside their conventional one.