Dan Chiasson’s review of Adrienne Rich’s Collected Poems 1950-2012 in the June 20 issue of The New Yorker quotes from the best-known poem in Rich’s first book, “Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers.” He refers to it as an example of Rich’s early formalism “channeled cunningly” to describe a woman oppressed by domesticity who sublimates her genius and […]
It’s the 50th anniversary of Hanging Loose Press, which began in 1966 as Hanging Loose magazine, a journal that came unbound to your bookstore or mailbox in an envelope that doubled as a cover. This reflected budget constraints, but also the editors’ philosophy, which was, to quote from the HL website, “…that poetry is for […]
The title poem in Rebecca Morgan Frank’s The Spokes of Venus considers astronomer Percival Lowell, who mistook the reflection of his own veined eye in a telescope’s eyepiece for canals on the planet’s surface. This entanglement of subject with object, beholder with beheld, is at the heart of Frank’s new book. If “Everything before us/looks […]
Today I found out through Facebook (thank you Amy!) that the Poetry Foundation had posted “The Trouble with Spring,” a podcast of my comments on Jane Kenyon’s “The Clearing,” along with my own poem, “April to May.” The recording was made last year at AWP, so it’s fitting that the broadcast should occur during this […]
My friend Caroline Finkelstein died early this week, not a year after she was first diagnosed with colon cancer. I met Caroline when she was finishing her MFA at Goddard College in 1978 and I briefly taught there. Caroline knew a lot about European history, painting, architecture, and gardening, subjects about which I know little. […]
I first met Ruth Lepson when Alice James Books was publishing Dreaming in Color in 1980 and we were both working members of the collective. Her subsequent books include I Went Looking for You and Morphology, a collaboration with photographer Steve Crump, both from BlazeVOX. Now I get to catch up with ask anyone, her […]
The people along the sand All turn and look one way. They turn their back on the land. They look at the sea all day. As long as it takes to pass A ship keeps raising its hull; The wetter ground like glass Reflects a standing gull. The land may vary more; But wherever the […]
From the first poem in Magpiety to the last, it’s obvious that language is a matter of life or death for Melissa Green. Every detail is perceived not just with clarity but in motion, whether it’s the birds foraging a resurrected field in “April” that strike “like fired shafts from a branch’s shuddering bow,” or […]
Recently I was going through a plastic tub of old papers in search of letters written thirty years ago. Encounters with a past self are always startling, even after finishing a book called Know Thyself, and when I found the letters, I didn’t open them immediately. Instead I read other notes, files, and manuscripts I’d […]