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He was believed by his peers to be an important poet, But his erotic obsession, condemned and strictly forbidden, Compromised his standing, and led to his ruin. Over sixty, and a father many times over, The objects of his attention grew younger and younger: He tried to corrupt the sons of his dearest friends; He…
Derek Walcott, What the Twilight Says, essays: In his first prose collection, Walcott brilliantly and lyrically discusses the works of Lowell, Brodsky, and other writers, and the state of West Indian literature and culture. (FSG)
Two months after she died, Billy asked: How’s Lynda doing? Billy, I said, she died, remember? Under the weight of supper’s constellation, the table wavered. Manic, he’d cook and then he’d insist on cleaning up: it calms me. Just now remembering, I remember, embarrassed, he’s dead, too. What’s the distance between a source and its…
Inside ourselves, inside ourselves so long we are engravened there. Inside the hot streets mazing from the Suq to fractious cul-de-sacs, piss smell & whitewashed alleyways, mules & taxi radios throbbing Rai & still inside ourselves. (Still with our own canopic jar— pulsing from its negative …
Alan Williamson, Res Publica, poems: The title sequence of Williamson’s new collection serves as a stunning elegy for Vietnam-era America and the war’s aftermath of media saturation, multiculturalism, and violence. (Chicago)
Overcast till 4 p.m. Gunshot-like crackling punctuates the hazy afternoon— premature fireworks as neighborhood kids prepare earsplitting festivities in honor of Independence Day. Bees big as doorknobs buzz drunkenly by, barely able to remain airborne. The dog races ahead through Elysian Park. We’re on a dirt trail that winds through California scrub—scorched hillsides of orange…
Cy Twombley, set of five paintings, 1985 Here it is, the Impressionist garden raised to another level of fluidity, no shape assembling itself in a wash of pink and red, a watery garden where one color flows into another, roses blazing and bleeding, pink, crimson, carmine, scarlet, until the color flames to blood, the colours…
Zacharis Award Ploughshares and Emerson College are pleased to present David Gewanter with the eighth annual John C. Zacharis First Book Award for his collection of poems, In the Belly, which was published last year by the University of Chicago Press. The $1,500 award — which is funded by Emerson College and named after the…
Number 280 in the Audubon Society Field Guide At first it seems the most subtle of spirits, inhabiting invisibly this dense, adumbral light at the bottom of the woodland understory, the rise and fall of its own recurring phrase so tremulous, so mournful a tone, we resist our impulse to pause beneath…
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