Tissue of Flesh and Light
Marchant transforms potentially stale-sounding specifics into a breathing, universally grasped object as writer, reader and paradoxically, the “no longer beautiful mind” are in communion, even if the mind presented cannot…
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poetry
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The Worst Words Ever
“What word do you hate and why?” That was the question posed to poets this year at the Ledbury Poetry Festival. Answers ranged from chillax (ugh) to redact (yuck) to…
Stephen Burt On Enjoying New Poetry
Over the weekend, I finally got around to unboxing and shelving my archived litmags in the new apartment. As I placed my issues of the Believer back into magazine files in…
Writing, Joni Mitchell, LA and Other Things
Your poem sounds like a Joni Mitchell song I’ve never heard before.
Saddam Hussein the Poet
On Thursday, the National Security Archives obtained and released 20 FBI “interviews” with Saddam Hussein. One of the things Hussein did, apparently, was read his interviewer some of his poetry.…
Somalian Refugee Writers Show the Way
Dadaab is not an oasis. There is no water. In July, food rations are expected to be cut back to 1000 calories a day. The camps are short 38,000 latrines. Every year only twenty students from the entire camp escape to university, the only legitimate way out.
In Case You Missed. . .
Last month’s North Beach Poetry Festival, William Taylor, Jr., poet, author of Words For Songs Never Written, and gentleman, has provided a very succinct report of the festival’s events which,…
Poetic Lives Online: Links by Brian Spears
Billy Collins says we need better poets in the US: “There’s an awful lot of bad poetry out there. I’d say about 87 percent of the poetry in America isn’t…
Measuring the Weight of Loss
A post-romantic poet not content to wax sentimental on idealized Nature, a la Mallarmé, Andrew Michael Roberts has staked his tent in her decimated domain.
“Accident, Mass. Ave.” by Jill McDonough
I grew up on Mass Ave. in John Leary House, a low-income apartment building for former homeless families run by The Catholic Worker. I remember the street as dirty, exciting…
For the love of God, we are not Generation Y
A little while ago, I got sick of hearing that my generation—which for some God awful reason is called Generation Y—was spoiled, lazy and stupid, all while we were fighting…
Exquisite Corpses
San Francisco Chronicle columnist Mark Morford’s Facebook status messages are queries for the world, not just for his friends. In a special Rumpus bricolage, we are pleased to present Ariane…