Stanley Plumly
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David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: The Dugout
So much of politics is symbolic speech in the service of the syncopations of the lives we actually live. But the ways we gather to vote is with our bodies. It’s the dance that goes along with those rhythms.
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David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: The Poet’s Journey: Chapter 9
Becoming a poet means writing past the danger each and every time you feel that you’re struggling with writing a poem.
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The Last Poem I Loved: Stanley Plumly’s “The Iron Lung”
I have often wondered if after getting these eight lines down, Plumly knew he had something magical in front of him. I have always suspected he did.
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Orphan Hours by Stanley Plumly
Like a blue jay, thrush, or white-chested robin, darting in last light into leaves, twigs, or sky – after the rain, say, but before evening falls, when dark follows a darkening, Stanley Plumly’s Orphan Hours shows us moments rife with…
