Secret obsessions, private mad endeavors, finally, unintentionally, revealed are so fragile they break the beholder’s heart. Which beckons the ask: why is heartbreak so beautiful? From “Letters from Max,” by Sarah Ruhl and Max Ritvo.
Sometimes, a lot of the times, when I read Sharon Olds it is a small, non-central phrase that does me in. Seldom is it the grand finale. Often, it is a line tucked into the middle, like a “last drop of something,” that makes me come back to it, come back to the poem, in […]
The Poetry Foundation’s site come in mighty handy while waiting in line. Example on this is brief, perfect poem above. Other photo in this post is the internal patio of the Poetry Foundation’s Chicago headquarters, which I recently had the chance to visit. More on that later. Later like when I am waiting again in […]
Scenes from Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Sharon Olds’ first book of poems “Satan Says.” In the background, Paola Pivi’s solo exhibit at the Miami Beach Bass Museum.
A “zorse” is the word to use when speaking of the offspring between a zebra and a horse. Also, say this out-loud: Kanye is half cannon, half ballet. Half canonical, half prey. From Sarah Blake’s “Mr. West”
Quick! Read this before the year is over. From Sarah Blake’s high-low masterpiece “Mr. West.”
I came home tonight from a long trip and, once in bed, picked up the first book I found to land my mind. It turned out to be Philip Larkin’s “Collected Poems,” which I’ve barely rustled. The stunning excerpt above is from his poem “Coming” and made me feel like I’d come home.
Tomorrow is May 20th. A day I’ve been dreading because it is the last day to pre-order my book mid-life. Since pre-sales determine how many books will be published, tomorrow matters. If any of you out there had any intention whatsoever of purchasing my book of poems, I would truly appreciate it if you did […]
“The Sun Coast,” a poem from my forthcoming book of poems entitled mid-life, now available for purchase via Finishing Line Press. The pre-sale period ends in just three days, so grab your copy soon, such as right this minute!
This poem is from my book “Entre domingo y domingo” published in 2014. My new book of poems mid-life is currently in its pre-sale period, which ends in just five days. Tick, tick, tick. To order, please click here.
From my book “Reverse Commute.” Happy weekend everyone!
On this, the eleventh night of the countdown to the end of my book’s pre-sale period, I am offering up a poem about the pressure of family. To order mid-life please click here. All proceeds go to the publishing house, but the street cred will be mine. Ha!
If I ever were to bake a cake it would be for you, and I’d color in the icing like spreading sunblock on your face. I like to get you while you sleep— the best is in a car— so I can butter every toe and beneath your pillow feet. Underneath your feet […]
You are A long time Coming Now All time is Your time My time is Yours since Before But your Time is Not mine It is yours I get to Watch it Feel how You are not In me But you were There you Grew Into a paw Of blood And time It felt good […]
I wanted to send a special shout out to New Mexico’s Red Savina Review and to its co-founding editor Wendy Gist for sharing the publication of my book, mid-life, with their readers. Wendy is a remarkable writer whose book Moods of the Dream Fog is available for purchase via Finishing Line Press. To purchase “mid-life,” please click […]
From my book “Entre domingo y domingo” (2014)
As one of the co-founding editors of New Mexico’s “Red Savina Review,” Wendy Gist invests her time in helping other writers share their work and in helping readers access good poems. But, she also devotes herself to her own work, as is evidenced by the quality of the poems found in her soon-to-be-released chapbook […]
The old lives gain Reach forward into my days of mind Their voices crawl Unrushed but sure Recognizable as fingernail On wood Dormant lessons swell like a full lung Breath-held with the grasping Of days unlived Brandished in offering My story One more layer of mud Etched unto geologic time
Rot is a gradual process. It begins while the fruit is ripe and dangling from the tree. Once it falls, the process is in full, and the fruit must be thrown away or eaten quickly. I have picked mangoes off the ground of warm places because they taste good when they are just […]
For Clarice Lispector and her Hour of the Star As the author, I alone love you. If you don’t get a call, it is because I have your phone. The others are busy calling each other, being each other. I made them that way, but it is you who wants revenge. It is […]