Over at the Poetry Foundation, Patricia Lockwood considers whether or not poetry is real work: Is it work, though? The question persists. Is a single muscle exerted during the process? Do…
My Brother My brother _is__ a savior who can torpedo through privilege with an artistic stun gun he’s a tempest saturating the city He makes a scar in the earth_…
The poet does what poets do: reactivates words, makes odd associations, connects things that do not ordinarily belong together in order to create deeper meaning.
We know Bishop primarily as the eager traveler who wrote of distant, tropical locations and lived for many years as an expat in Brazil. She was that, of course, but…
exercises in breathing I. knowing the rules is not enough. when it snows, it doesn’t always mean it. when it snows, sometimes it snows for the museums and sometimes it…
The Vindication of Judas Forgive me at last, Brother, for the death sentence: a kiss that revealed me, an act of obedience which began your martyrdom. Who else but you—who…